A Fool's Errand
by The Sergeant
Summary: Elias Amell has known nothing her entire existence save the Circle of Magi and their secluded life in Kinloch Hold. Then with one simple act, everything changes. Overhaul finished and new content added!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is just an idea I had. I always flesh out the stories of games I'm playing in my head as I play them, and a lot of the sub-text here is the result. I don't expect much, as I doubt anyone will ever read this and it won't ever see the light of day. And that's okay. I'm just having an awful time fleshing out an original story I'm working on, and I thought I'd do this in the mean time to "keep up my nonexistent skills" as it were.

If by chance you do review, please be gentle. I have not before allowed anyone other than my husband to view my writing. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, not at all, not even a little bit. Bringing a lawsuit against me would profit you nothing, except to deprive my two small boys of the food I can rarely afford right now, anyway. Also, if I did own Dragon Age, Alistair would have had a MUCH bigger part in Awakening. Just sos you knows

Chapter I

_And so is the Golden City blackened _

_With each step you take in my Hall._

_Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting. _

_You have brought sin to Heaven_

_And doom upon all the world._

- Canticle of Threnodies 8:13

"The Chant of Light tells us that it is the hubris of men that brought the darkspawn into our world." The Revered Mother paused and gazed out at her flock, brow heavy, tone serious. The setting sun filtering in from the small, high window behind her provided an ominous glare to the petite, delicately-boned woman. She leaned forward to glare reproachfully at a couple of trouble-makers who were whispering near the back door, her graying hair falling into her eyes in the process. Brushing it behind her ears, she continued. "The mages of the Tevinter Imperium sought to usurp heaven . . . and instead destroyed it. They were cast out by the Maker, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned to earth as monsters and became a blight upon the lands, unstoppable and relentless."

Here the Revered Mother paused again, pacing to and fro on the small dais at the head of the chapel. She locked eyes with every individual in the small room one-by-one before moving on. "Magic exists to serve man," she intoned severely, "and never to rule over him." She raised her voice almost to a shout. "Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against his children! They shall be named Maleficar-" she spat this word with such vehemence that several people flinched, "accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world, or beyond."

The Mother quieted for the last time, her sermon nearing its end, and glared out at the young apprentices surrounding her. "Magic is the Maker's curse for the Pride of Men. As mages, every one of you, _every one_ harbors a maleficar inside yourselves. Only through careful observation, and the study of our blessed prophet Andraste's Chant of Light, can any of you hope to deal with the darkness inherent in your natures. That will be all for this week. Maker watch over you."

"Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time," Jowan said with an eye roll as he shoved the doors of the Circle chapel open and strode into the hallway. His pace was quick, a fast walk that was nearing a run. His companion, a short, petite brunette with her hair in ponytails quick on his heels.

"Is it such a waste of time that you must practically fall over yourself escaping after every lecture?" She was smaller than Jowan, and had to resort to running to keep up with his movement. "Doesn't that seem a little extreme?"

"The Revered Mother hates me. If I give her time to reach the back and actually get her hands on me, who knows what might happen?"

"Yes, she might glare you to death. Very intimidating," his companion replied with a grin. They slowed to a walk as they reached the stairs and began their descent. "And it's not so much that she hates _you_, Jowan. It's more that we're mages, so she . . . hates us all equally? Also, she might hate you, personally, slightly less if you made fewer snide comments to me during her lessons."

"But have you _heard_ the way she talks about us?" Jowan asked incredulously.

"No, must have missed it, somehow," the young woman muttered under her breath, but Jowan appeared not to notice.

"'Every one of you has a maleficar inside, you are an affront to the Maker'," Jowan intoned mockingly. "She can't possibly believe all the things she says about us!"

"I think most do, as a matter of fact. It's probably the main reason we're all rounded up and locked in this tower."

"I mean, the woman doesn't even hear herself! She contradicts herself every two sentences or so!" Jowan continued, once again failing to notice he had been spoken to. " First it's 'foul and corrupt are they who have taken his girt', _gift_ being the operative word here, 'and turned it against his children', and ten seconds later she's telling us that magic is a curse for our pride! How does that even make sense? Which is it, then? A gift, or a curse?"

The two companions paused halfway down the stairwell and waited for the throng of people to disperse and leave them in privacy, most of those passing by younger than they and heading for their shared rooms in the apprentice dormitories. The young woman scowled and tucked a stray strand of brown-gold hair behind one ear as she observed them. Nearly all were younger than she and Jowan, some were almost half their age, and one or two were even so small that they had to be accompanied by an older apprentice. She had been at the Circle Tower for seventeen of her twenty years and was now, besides Jowan, the eldest mage who had yet to go through their Harrowing. She coughed to cover up the anxious look that clouded her face so as not to worry her companion, but was unsuccessful.

As soon as the coast was clear, he leaned in just slightly and lowered his voice. "Are you all right, Elias?"

Elias grinned and shook her head, a lopsided smirk that lightened her features. "Just wallowing in misery. Anyway, what were we talking about?"

Jowan stared at her for a few seconds longer than was polite, but decided not to press the matter."I believe you were explaining to me why you drag me into the chapel every week just to be told how evil we all are."

"First of all, I do not _drag_ you anywhere. I say I'm going and you announce you have nothing better to do, and then follow me-"

"-well, that just shows you're absolutely missing the point-"

"-and secondly, you know very well why I go. Every once in a while, Mother Charlienne lets slip what's actually happening in the outside world! Come on, Jowan; you know that trying to get any information out of the templars is like trying to coax water from a stone. The Revered Mother is the only one dim enough to let slip to us lowly apprentices any news. Oh! And that reminds me." Elias pushed herself off of the wall on which she had been leaning the moment before and sat down on the top step, motioning for Jowan to sit next to her. He sat but crossed his arms, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. Elias leaned in closer, lowered her voice and continued. "Did you hear what she mentioned today? 'They returned to earth and became a blight upon the lands!' Last week she lectured upon the evils of the Tevinter Imperium and let slip that there was a war brewing to the south. Do you know what that means? Do you think she's talking about another Blight?"

"I don't see how she could be," Jowan replied with a sigh. "She rarely leaves the tower anymore, and none of us are allowed to, where would she get such information?"

"Oh that woman is the nosiest busy-body in all of Ferelden," Elias answered back with a sly smile. "Have you seen how she follows after Knight-Commander Greigor and First Enchanter Irving when they speak? I don't doubt that she's gleaned plenty of news from their conversations."

"Why are you so interested about what's happening outside the Tower? It's not like we'll ever get to see any of it," Jowan asked, lounging against the steps lazily.

"We might," Elias said with a half-smile, not meeting his eyes. "And besides, if there really _is_ a Blight, don't you think the King will ask for assistance from the Circle?"

"Not if he's a half-wit that believes everything the Chantry says about us."

"I don't think he is," Elias said thoughtfully, gazing off into space. "From what little I've managed to gather from the templar's conversations he seems like a decent sort. He's certainly popular enough. I think that if there really were a Blight threatening Ferelden that he would call for the Circle of Magi's aid."

"Well, you can think that all you like, but it's a moot point anyway. We're still just apprentices, Elias; even if First Enchanter Irving did send out mages to combat a Blight, we wouldn't be among them; the templars wouldn't let him send more than a few, and certainly not anyone who hasn't been through their Harrowing." Jowan's face grew very dark and he hugged his knees. "Maker help us."

There were several minutes of silence between them, broken only by the sound of the familiar bangs of the apprentices practicing in the classrooms below them.

Jowan eventually broke the silence. "When do you think they'll finally test us?"

The somber expression did not leave Elias' face, but her voice sounded unafraid. "Soon, I'd expect. We're the oldest apprentices left in the Tower. They're going to have to test us before too much longer."

"Unless they plan to make us Tranquil," Jowan replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, they're not going to make us Tranquil," Elias replied with a shake of her head. But she sounded much more confident than she felt.

"You don't know that. We've been here forever. Maybe they're not going to test us."

"They will, Jowan. When we're ready, they'll test us. Besides," she said with an attempt at a smile, patting his shoulder with her hand, "are you really that anxious to undertake your Harrowing? Some mages go to theirs and never come back. We have no idea what happens. For all we know-"

"You there! Mage!"

Elias and Jowan both jumped, startled by the loud voice of the templar now standing before them. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the features of his face and expression hidden by the heavy helm that most templars wore while on duty. His bulky silver armor gleamed in the torchlight as he stared down at them. Elias got quickly to her feet, Jowan right behind her, his expression apprehensive. Elias was feeling slightly less than comfortable herself; mages were forbidden from "coupling" lest they produce another mage child. Therefore to be caught hiding in a stairwell with another of the opposite sex by a Chantry soldier was an unappealing idea. Elias kicked herself for not noticing it sooner.

Jowan stared at the floor, so Elias swallowed hard and turned to the templar. "A suggestion," she began, trying to keep the scorn from her voice, "you might try calling us by our names, as simply shouting 'mage' at the top of your lungs is confusing, since we're both mages."

Despite the helm, Elias was almost sure the fellow was scowling. "Hold your tongue, apprentice, until you're spoken to. What are you two doing skulking about the stairwell?"

"Just talking," she said truthfully, although she doubted he would believe her.

"Well then, be on your way and do it somewhere else."

"Of course. Our apologies. We only sought a little privacy," Elias replied smoothly, flashing the man a quick smile. "Maker's blessing upon you." She grabbed Jowan's arm and began to pull him down the stairs with her, making sure to keep her pace slow enough not to draw any more attention to them.

"And upon you," the templar replied, obvious surprise in his voice.

As soon as the door to the stairs was shut, Elias and Jowan made for the apprentices' quarters with all due haste, stopping to talk to no one, walking so quickly that Elias found herself nearly sprinting again. Upon reaching his quarters Jowan flung open the door and nearly threw himself inside, Elias shutting the door quickly behind them before bursting into a fit of giggling.

"Well, that was . . . funny."

Jowan, who had flung himself onto his bed, replied, voice muffled with a face full of pillow, "Funny is not the word I'd use to describe that encounter."

"Oh, come on!" Elias replied, sitting down next to him, "what's the worst that could have happened? We weren't technically doing anything wrong."

Jowan unburied his face and glared, irritated, at his friend. "I'm sure people have been brought before the Knight-Commander for less."

"Maybe so, but not us. And not tonight, at any rate."

"You're impossible," he said with a sigh, lying back with his hands behind his head and staring upward. "You know that they hunt us, right? I don't understand how you can even bear to speak to them."

Elias shrugged and smiled to herself, a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. "They're not all so terrible."

Jowan gave her an exasperated look. "Yes, well, the ones who aren't so terrible, Miss _I had a templar lover_-" he mouthed the last two words so quietly that Elias couldn't hear him, "-will still get you executed if you're caught with them."

"Oh come on, I doubt we would have been _executed_. That seems a little extreme. . ."

"Look Elias, I'm . . . sorry, really, for what happened between you, but . . . you have to admit it's better this way. Someone would almost certainly have found out eventually. I know you like to believe the best of people, but had you been caught, I'm almost certain you would have been executed. It's a high price to pay for a man you admit you didn't love."

Elias sighed and stared heavily at the floor. "But I could have, Jowan."

"But you didn't."

"Enough," Elias said, her tone harsh despite the smile on her face. "Let's just . . . move on." She smiled genuinely as she lounged lazily against Jowan's coverlets, amused at the nervous and confused looks she was receiving from Jowan's dorm mates. She didn't understand what they were looking at, really. She'd visited Jowan almost every night since they were five; you'd think they'd have gotten used to seeing her by now.

"What about this girl you tell me you've been meeting with?" Elias asked, changing the subject before her friend could argue further. "You've been gone nearly every night this month. When do I finally get to meet her?"

At this Jowan began to look decidedly uncomfortable. Glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers, he replied quietly, "Um . . . not, not for awhile yet. She's shy."

Elias cocked an eyebrow. "How shy could she be?"

Jowan stood up and retreated to his footlocker, taking rather longer than was strictly necessary to undo the locks on it. "She's just, well, she-um, you . . . look, you haven't told anyone about us, have you?"

"Of course not. Besides, who do I speak to other than you?"

"Good point." Jowan smiled, looking visibly relieved.

Elias didn't feel like pressing the issue further, but made a mental note to weed it out of him at a later date. She was about to open her mouth to change the subject when the door to their dormitory creaked open and a templar came in, all but indistinguishable from the one that had caught them in the stairwell. Jowan looked at her in alarm, and she shook her head ever so slightly from side to side. There was no need to panic. Certainly no need. They had done nothing wrong, after all.

The templar walked up to them and stopped just short of where they were standing, observing them stoically through his thick armor. Elias stepped forward quickly. "Is there something you wish of us?"

"You are the apprentice Elias Amell?" the templar asked, sounding official and slightly nervous. Elias could tell by his voice that this was a different templar from the one who had spoken to them earlier.

She nodded. "I am she."

"You have been summoned to the First Enchanter's study. Please come with me."

She turned to Jowan, unable to keep the fear out of her eyes. Jowan looked like he was going to be sick.

"Of course," Elias replied, keeping her tone even. "Lead on."

The templar turned his back and marched quickly out into the hallway. On her way out, she shot Jowan a reassuring look before closing the door behind her and following her guide.

In Ferelden, even the summers could be chilly. Night had fallen, and the only light guiding their path were the flickering flames of the torches, casting deep shadows onto all the doors and walls they passed. The ominous feel of the Tower at night did nothing to calm Elias' fears. She followed mutely behind her guide, eyes cast downward, praying that no one had just overheard her tell her best friend that she had had an affair with a templar.

The knight in front of her slowed his pace and then stopped altogether, waiting for her to catch up. She strode forward and walked at his side, smiling slightly to ease the tension. She wondered if her smile looked strained.

"Do not fear," came the knight's voice from under his helm, "The First Enchanter did not seem upset when he sent me to fetch you. I am sure it is a routine matter." His tone was polite, but friendly, and Elias flashed him a genuine smile that she had no idea whether or not he returned.

They continued in silence for the rest of their short journey. First Enchanter Irving's study was located on the second floor of the Circle Tower, directly next door to the chapel she had left barely an hour before. Upon arrival Elias noted that the door was open, and warm light was streaming out and bathing the cold stone floor with a soft, reassuring glow. More alarming, however, was that the First Enchanter was not alone in his study, but was standing, waiting for her, alongside Knight-Commander Greagoir, the stern, sometimes harsh man that commanded the templars.

Elias stepped into the room, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

"Ahh, here she is." First Enchanter Irving greeted her warmly, smiling in such a way that made Elias know immediately that she was in no trouble. "Thank you, Cullen, you may leave us." The templar Cullen bowed and departed, metal armor clanking loudly on the stone floor all the way down the hall. If the Knight Commander objected to one of his men being ordered out by the First Enchanter, he made no sign of it.

Irving stood before her, smiling his friendly, tired smile. A man of at least sixty, Irving was easily distinguished from his peers in that he looked like he hadn't slept a wink since before Elias had been born. The large, dark circles under his eyes seemed to flow nearly all the way down his face, stopping just short of his think grey beard. He wore the robes of a Senior Enchanter, his handsome staff strapped to his back and glinting slightly in the candlelight. Many years of stress and care had sharply lined his face, and Elias often wondered if he had declined to become First Enchanter if his health might have fared better.

Beside him was the Knight-Commander, Greagoir, as sharp a contrast to the First Enchanter as one would care to find. Greigor was roughly the same age, but time had been much kinder to the templar than to his counterpart. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair and intense blue eyes that more often than not were narrowed in suspicion or annoyance. His hair was short and clean, his face sporting a well-trimmed beard. Elias admitted grudgingly that for a man his age he was fairly good-looking.

"Ah, please sit down, child," Irving said with a smile, motioning to a chair directly in front of his desk. Elias sat, feeling distinctly exposed. Knight-Commander Greagoir stared at her severely, unblinkingly and with obvious dislike. Elias stared back and refused to look away.

"Do you know why you have been summoned here?" Irving asked in his slow, gentle voice, searching her face for answer.

The young brunette shook her head. "No, First Enchanter, I do not."

"I'm sure you've been wondering at what point would come your Harrowing; well, the time has finally arrived."

Elias felt all the air whoosh out of her lungs at once. _The Harrowing, now?_ She thought, desperately trying to conceal her panic. Hadn't she and Jowan just been talking about this very thing? Well, at least she knew now that they weren't planning on making her Tranquil. But no one knew what happened at a Harrowing; the mages who passed were forbidden from discussing it. Half the apprentices she had seen go had not come back. What in Andraste's name were they expecting her to do?

When she found her voice, it was stronger than she could have hoped. "I am ready, First Enchanter."

"All mages must go through this final test, and so shall you," Greagoir began in his crisp, brusque voice. "No apprentice knows the exact moment of their Harrowing, but some warning is allowed. Within one week's time, you too shall be so tested. Succeed, and you will be welcomed into the Circle of Magi as a full mage, an apprentice no longer."

"And if I fail?" Elias asked the Knight-Commander defiantly.

"I suggest that you use the following week for study and meditation," the First Enchanter said, pointedly ignoring the question.

"And prayer." Knight-Commander Greagoir added. The hard look had come back into his eyes when he gazed at Elias, but she ignored it. The glares of a bigoted templar were nothing to the news that she was going to shortly be undertaking an unknown test that might possibly kill her. She forced herself to feel brave and boldly returned Greagoir's glare.

A thick silence hung in the air, and Elias knew that the First Enchanter was expecting her to break it, but she would not. Should she thank them, then, for throwing her to the wolves? Should she reassure a grown man that she, barely more than a child, would be grateful for potentially being executed? What sort of choice was the Harrowing or Tranquility?

It was no wonder so many mages became maleficar. Survival could be a powerful motivator.

"You may return to your quarters, if you wish," Irving said at last, sounding tired and old. "I'm sure you have much to think on this evening."

Elias bowed politely and swallowed her pride. "Thank you First Enchanter."

She turned around and left the soft glow of the candles for the cool, welcome darkness of the second-floor corridor. All she could think about was getting back to the safety of her bed, the comforting darkness of her dormitory as she drifted off to a hopefully dreamless sleep. She couldn't bear to tell Jowan. Not tonight. To tell him would make it real, make it inevitable, and she couldn't bear it. It could wait for tomorrow.

So lost was she in her own dark thoughts that Elias didn't realize that she was being followed until she had almost reached the stairs. Greagoir was trailing behind her, still gifting her with that piercing stare he had hung on her during her short visit to Irving's study. She slowed her pace to allow him to catch up, but desperately wished that he would go away. Wasn't there another mage about for him to torment?

"Apprentice, a word." It was not a request. Elias gritted her teeth and stopped walking, turning to the Knight-Commander wordlessly and waiting for him to speak.

"I _do_ suggest that you take this time for prayer. I notice that you regularly attend services in the Chantry. That is commendable; too few of our apprentices make time for the Chant nowadays. But I, and the Revered Mother, for that matter, do not believe that you attend out of faith in the Maker. Why, then, do you go?"

Elias tactfully said nothing.

"I suggest," Greigor continued, his eyes narrowing, "that you take the time to revisit the Chantry, and actually _listen_ to the message that is being spoken. It will serve you well for what is to come." The Knight-Commander paused and snorted in disgust. "Assuming any message can penetrate that rebellious skull of yours."

"Is that all, Knight-Commander?" Elias asked dully.

"That is all."

Elias had only gotten two steps farther when she heard Greigor's voice behind her again. "Apprentice. One thing more."

She stopped again and turned back.

"You asked in the First Enchanter's study what would happen if you failed. Well, I'm certain that a clever young mage such as you knows the answer to _that_ without being told." And with that he was gone, leaving Elias staring after him, seething.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Split the old chapter down into three smaller ones courtesy of my "beta reader" Kat Collins. Please review! Even if you hate it, tell me why! And thanks to all those who do review! Your input helps more than you know.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age still isn't mine. I bet I'd have money to pay my bills if it was. Alas, I can dream

Chapter 2

_The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil_

_And grew jealous of the life_

_They could not feel, could not touch._

_In blackest envy were the demons born._

- Canticle of Erudition 2:1

The next week passed in a shimmering haze of unreality for Elias. Often unsure what to do with herself, she spent the majority of her time in her dormitory alone, quietly contemplating what was to come. At times Jowan would point out that she was handling things rather well; she knew her outward demeanor appeared calm and, while slightly quieter than usual, she still took her meals and studied with the other apprentices as if nothing was happening.

In all truth, she _was_ calm. She returned to the dormitory that night and lay down on her bed, avoiding Jowan in the hallway and refusing to answer any of his questions when he came looking for her later, eventually yelling at him to stop pestering her and go to bed. When he left, sullen and silent, she knew she had hurt his feelings, but her mind was so full of dark thoughts that she didn't know if she could stand to add Jowan to the list. And some part of her, some hidden, demented, long-buried part of her was, for all the danger, unbearably excited, and she wasn't sure what to make of that.

The next morning Elias apologized to her friend for her snappishness the night before.

Jowan stared at her grumpily for a few seconds before sitting down on the bed beside her. "Ah, well. I suppose you had good reason. I mean, if you're dead in a few days I'll certainly be inclined to forgive you, won't I?"

Elias smirked back. "I don't know, I might get tired of your sarcasm and push you down the stairs first."

Jowan laughed and patted her shoulder. "You know what? I'm sure you'll be fine. You're the most talented mage I know. What test could they possibly have that would stop you?" Perhaps it was Jowan's confidence in her, but the rest of the week seemed less difficult after that. She was still scared, but hearing Jowan say out loud that she was talented counted for a lot more than he knew.

The week of constant waiting proved to be the most difficult. Elias ate breakfast calmly with Jowan and the other apprentices everyday but promptly left afterward to vomit it back up at least once that week. When she returned, Jowan was eyeing her sympathetically. She sat down next to him and refused to speak.

Four nights later, she knew that her Harrowing had finally arrived.

She was fast asleep in her bed, snug in a warm cushion of nothingness that dreams had yet to penetrate, when suddenly she felt herself being lifted physically from her bed and deposited roughly on the floor. A hand slapped itself over her mouth before she could call out, and she looked up in panic at the templar that was holding her, finger to his lips, telling her to be silent. A sliver of light filtered in from the corridor, and from the window high above her bed she knew that dawn was on its way. After a few seconds the templar in whose arms she found herself let her go, apparently convinced that she wouldn't attempt to make any further noise. Elias let out the breath she was holding and straightened her robes, looking at the templar questioningly. He motioned silently to the door and waited.

Elias, who had taken to sleeping in her robes ever since her late-night summons to Irving's office, paused long enough to slip on her boots, the supple leather squeaking softly in the pre-dawn darkness. She knew that most mages didn't even own boots; most had soft shoes, or comfortable slippers lined with furs, but Elias disliked anything she couldn't get dirty. Not that she'd ever had the chance of that, sequestered in the tower away from filth and dust and every other dirty surface under the Maker's sky. She smiled humorlessly as she buckled the last buckle. They may not be as comfortable as fur-lined slippers, but they made her feel more secure, and Elias couldn't think of a time when she more needed to feel secure than right at this moment.

The young girl marched out of her dormitory door, turning and waiting for her templar escort to do likewise. Once the door was closed silently behind them, Elias walked the few paces to the boys' dorm across the hall where her friend was quietly snoring, unaware that she might never see him again. The door stood ajar, and Elias had already placed her hand on it when the templar grabbed her arm roughly. Confused, she turned around and saw him shaking his head.

_Please_, she mouthed silently, pointing to the sleeping Jowan through the crack in the heavy wooden door. _He's my friend_.

The templar tightened his grip on her arm and all but dragged her away, throwing her roughly down the hall and closing the door behind them. Elias glared at him and restrained herself from hitting the man, as it might end up getting her killed.

"He's my friend," she said angrily, teeth bared in an angry snarl. "I might never see him again. At least let me tell him goodbye."

"You will see him again once you have passed your Harrowing," the templar replied, sounding bored. "Now, please follow me. You have been summoned. I'll restrain you, if I must."

Elias conjured up a mental image of being deposited at Greagoir's feet, bound and gagged, and decided that the insult of it was reason enough to hold her tongue. Giving the man escorting her a look that clearly said she hoped he died in a fire, she let herself be marched away.

Her executioner, as she was calling him in her head, led her down the hall and up four flights of stairs to the uppermost chamber of the Circle Tower, a place where she had never been allowed admittance before. Apprentices were not permitted above the second floor, and as such Elias had always wondered what it was on the upper floors that the Senior Enchanters didn't want them to see. Before today she would have given nearly anything for an un-interrupted hour in which to satiate her curiosity; now she would rather be back down in her dormitory with Jowan than marching slowly skyward to an unknown tribulation.

After the last flight of stairs the templar stopped before a door that Elias assumed led to their destination. The templar stopped and seemed to look over her, though it was hard to tell with that infernal helmet in the way.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, and she thought she might have detected just a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"I am," she said, and meant it.

He nodded once and opened the door for her, motioning her to walk in front of him. Elias stepped into a large, cavernous expanse with several high windows full of stained glass, shining cold sunlight down into the immense, circular space. The room itself was vast and empty, easily the largest she had ever seen in her life. Mammoth stone columns rose from floor to ceiling on the chamber's periphery, each sporting their own lamps, all of which were lit. The ground was littered with concentric circles drawn out in what she knew must be magical symbols, although for what she was unsure. Poking out of the largest of the circles on the ground were stone pedestals of about waist-height, the tops dish-shaped and full of what appeared to be glowing light. The ceiling was immeasurable and unseen, stretching up into the heavens farther than the illumination would reach. All in all, it was an awesome sight.

There were four people in the center of the chamber, standing in a semi-circle waiting to receive her. First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir stood side-by-side, eyes locked on her and looking especially grave. Beside them were two of Greagoir's templars, both wearing their distinctive armor, but only one wearing a helm. She didn't recognize the unmasked templar, but she supposed he was good-looking enough. He was perhaps five to ten years her senior, with short auburn curls that faded almost into brown and a goatee of the same color that she thought made his face look distinctive. She also noticed that he seemed nervous, occasionally looking between her and the Knight-Commander and then quickly averting his gaze, instead staring at the stone floor. _Wonderful. That bodes well._

As she turned her attention from her surroundings to her companions, Elias inadvertently locked eyes with Greagoir. He regarded her with a cool neutrality that was both infuriating and comforting. She closed the distance and stood facing them all, shoulders squared and head held high, doing her best to look proud and unafraid, and waited for someone to speak.

After a few seconds of silence, Greagoir stepped toward her, stopping just within arm's reach. He surveyed her for a fraction of a second before beginning.

"Magic exists to serve man," he said, giving her with the same neutral look as before, "and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the Prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin." He paused just long enough to begin pacing, something Elias had never seen him do, and it intrigued her.

"Your magic is a gift . . . but it is also a curse. For spirits of the dream realm, the Fade," he said, motioning at one of the stone pedestals leaking light, "are drawn to you, and seek to use _you_ as a gateway into this world." He stopped his pacing and resumed his former place before her. Elias heard his words, and began to get an inkling where this was headed.

"This is why the Harrowing exists," Irving said. He too began to pace, his path leading him around and behind Elias until he was on her other side, and she was sandwiched between the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. "The ritual sends you into the fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

Irving stared at her, waiting for her to speak. Elias felt the barest hint of a breeze sift through her hair and down her neck. She took a deep breath and that buried, repressed feeling of excitement nearly overwhelmed her. She had to try to keep herself from smiling.

"I am ready," she said calmly.

"Know this, apprentice," Greagoir said, calling her attention back to him. "If you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die."

Elias swallowed and remained silent.

"This is lyrium," Greigor continued, again motioning to the stone basin filled with light. "The very essence of magic, and your gateway into the Fade."

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child," Irving said, again stepping forward. He was looking at her more intently than she could ever remember. "Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you. And remember, the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

"The apprentice must go through this test _alone_, First Enchanter," Greigor said reproachfully to Irving, taking a couple steps toward them as if to cut their conversation short. He beheld Elias with finality before motioning toward the stone basin one last time. "You _are_ ready."

Elias glared at the Knight-Commander for a final moment before marching forward boldly toward the vessel he indicated. The sense of calm that had come upon her arrival to the Harrowing chamber had not yet left her, and for that she was grateful. Let her panic and pass out _after_ she was trapped into the Fade. At least there would be no witnesses there.

She hoped.

When she reached the pedestal, she noticed that the light that emanated from it was bluish in color, and swirling quickly around the bowl. _Like stardust_, she thought, and almost smiled. Before logic could warn her of all the dangers, she shoved her hand down and touched the boiling mass within. Elias pulled her hand back out and watched the brilliance grow brighter and engulf her hand, churling faster and faster before exploding outward, completely swallowing her body and bringing with it utter blackness.

Before losing herself she could have swore she heard something, low and deep and menacing, speaking softly into her ear. Whatever it was telling her ceased to matter, however, as the darkness of oblivion took her and understanding ceased.

Elias woke to find that the sky was not the sky.

Indeed, the sky was nothing like how a sky should look. She found herself on her feet, in the somewhat familiar un-reality of the Fade, realm of dreams. She had been here before, certainly; all mages could wander the Fade in their dreams. It was one of the things that separated her kind from the rest of the population. But never had it been this clear, never had she felt more aware of her senses and her surroundings.

Remembering what she was doing there, she looked around quickly, but beheld no demon. She was completely alone. Alone, amid the ruins of what might have been a temple in the waking world, a temple of broken stones and eerie statues that stood upon a drab ground littered here and there with gnarled trees streaked with red. Everything was the same uniform brown color except the sky, which glowed a cloudy, poisonous green. She seemed to be standing upon an island, the ground dropping away to reveal only more sky if she looked too long or too hard at it. After a few seconds it made her nauseous.

Every time Elias tried to focus her eyes on something it would shimmer until she looked away, only to grow hazy again when she turned her attention back to it. She turned around and almost walked into a stone cylinder nearly identical to the one that had brought her here, except devoid of lyrium and the same washed-out color as everything else. Well, there would be no getting back this way. She would have to face her demon.

It seemed cruel enough to her that she had been sent here to face a demon alone and unaided, with death as a direct result of her failure; it was even more maddening that she would have to seek out the beast herself. _I suppose some part of me thought it would be waiting for me when I got here_. _But it's not. So I may as well get on with it._

Behind the pedestal that had nearly tripped her was a withered tree in the rough shape of a doorway. Elias walked up to it carefully and tried to pass through. Her hand met no resistance and glided straight to the other side, as if through nothing, the coiling black vapors inside flowing around her hand like so many tiny gaseous hairs. Sighing and giving up that avenue, she turned back around and beheld a narrow path stretching downward and to the left before disappearing out of sight. As if steeling herself for what was to come, she shook her head and headed down it slowly, eyes and ears alert for the slightest change.

Not more than two steps down the path Elias beheld what appeared at a distance to be a wisp of smoke. Slowing only slightly, she continued toward it. _That can't be the demon, can it?_ She wondered to herself as it neared. _That seems a little anti-climatic if that's the thing I'm-_

Before she could finish that thought a bolt of electricity hit her in the chest. Gasping and falling backward, she retained her footing and stared incredulously at the tiny wisp as it grew nearer and nearer. _That cute little thing shot me!_

A second bolt soared toward her. Remembering herself this time, she jumped to the side and it missed her by inches. Before the creature could send off a third attack Elias reacted on instinct, calling forth the power she possessed and throwing her hands forward violently. A bolt of energy soared toward the creature and hit it squarely in its middle.

The third attack never came. The wisp collapsed in on itself, becoming in less than a second nothing more than swirling miasma and dissipating into the air. The young girl stood as if frozen and stared at the spot where it had been floating. She knew she should move, knew she should be wary of more attacks, but her mind was too preoccupied to care. Over and over her mind played out the same idea.

_I've never killed anything before_.

She looked at her hands in astonishment. She knew that she was capable of it, but on what occasion had she ever needed to call forth her abilities for self-defense before now?

And was that thing really dead? Could anything in the Fade truly die?

When she had told Jowan that she had decided to make the Primal school of magic her focus, he had laughed at her.

"What use is a war-mage when we're locked in the tower?" he had asked, grabbing a heavy tome from the chair next to her and propping it against a large stack of books.

"We won't _always_ be locked in the tower," she had answered, exasperated.

"Oh yes we will," Jowan said darkly, glaring at the templar standing nearby while he had his back turned. "We're never getting out of here. You might as well accept it and study something useful."

"Oh? And what are you going to focus on?" Elias asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Entropy," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Entropy?" she had asked incredulously. "_Entropy?_" Jowan pretended not to hear her as she laughed out loud at him. "The _destruction_ school? Oh yes, much more useful than my 'war magery'. How foolish I have been."

"Oh, shut up," her friend replied with a grin. "Alright, perhaps I could learn from my own advice.

"Yes, perhaps you could," she had laughed. "And maybe _I_ will study whatever I damn well please."

"Maybe you should."

Elias shook her head, bringing her wandering mind back to the present. She missed her friend. Why couldn't they just do this infernal test in pairs . . . ?

_So that obviously wasn't the demon I'm supposed to be facing. Apparently there's much to be wary of here. I'll have to be more careful._ The young mage apprentice looked to both sides, as if expecting to find a way back to the world she knew. When none presented itself she sighed, shook her head again, and then proceeded back down the path, this time even more slowly, all senses tensed and ready.

After several yards the path curved up a hill and sharply to the left. Just as she reached the top she saw a creature nearly identical to the wisp that had attacked her earlier floating farther down the trail. This time when the attack came, she was ready. As it shot a bolt of electric energy at her Elias dodged it and threw her arms forward violently, blasting it with another bolt of arcane energy that made it fizzle and disappear. She let out the breath she had been holding and wiped her forehead absently. _I guess it gets easier_.

Continuing on her journey she encountered one more of the creatures a few yards down and dispatched it easily enough, now that she knew what to expect. She was just beginning to wonder if she wasn't doing too poorly after all when something else presented itself. Elias stopped walking immediately and tried to make it out from where she was standing.

From this distance, it appeared to be a . . . mouse? A plain brown mouse stood in the middle of her only route, neither attacking nor fleeing but simply standing and watching her. Was it a demon? Elias knew that in the Fade, a demon could take any form it wanted. But why would a demon choose to be something as small and helpless and a mouse?

The apprentice approached it cautiously, eventually moving close enough that it couldn't help but notice her. When it didn't move, Elias edged nearer and nearer until she was just within arm's length of the creature. Just when she was about to give it up as an oddity of a world she would never fully understand, it spoke.

"Someone else thrown to the wolves! As fresh and unprepared as ever. It isn't right that they do this, the templars, not to you, me, anyone."

Elias wanted to ask it what she was supposed to do, what it was doing here, how she could escape this horrid place of nightmares. Instead she stared at the being incredulously and replied. "You're . . . a talking rat."

"You think you're really here? In that body?" the mouse replied in disgust. "You look like that because you _think_ you do!" The mouse sighed deeply and then resumed speaking in a much more dejected voice. "It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was, aren't you?"

Without warning the mouse shifted form, growing in size faster than her eyes could follow until it was the size and shape of a man. His form glowed a strange white-silver for a few seconds before coalescing into the recognizable form of a human male. He was clad in the robes of a mage; long-sleeved with a scarlet red upper-portion and chestnut lower half, shoulders, and sleeves. He was small for an adult, not much taller than she herself, with short medium brown hair and deeply green eyes. She thought he must be around Jowan's age. Elias took a step back unknowingly, hand reaching instinctively for a staff that she had left in the waking world, unsure what this being was or what he was doing here.

"Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me . . . well, Mouse."

She regarded him in wary silence before answering, "Not your real name, I take it?"

He hesitated for just a moment. "No. I don't remember anything from . . . before." His voice took on a bitterness as he continued, "The templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They think you failed, and they don't want something getting out. That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And _you _don't have much time," he motioned at Elias with his right hand as if to emphasize his point, "before you end up the same."

A white-hot fury bubbled inside Elias' stomach, at all the injustices she had suffered and especially for this one, done to this man simply because he had the gift of magic. When she thought her voice was steady, she said, "I'm sorry for what happened."

"Don't waste time with that talk!" Mouse replied, irritated. "You don't want to end up like . . . this." His voice grew slightly more urgent, as if he needed her to hear him and understand. Elias listened attentively. "There's something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it . . . if you can. It's your way out," he said emphatically, gesturing to her again, "or your opponent's, if the templars wouldn't kill you. A _test_," he spoke the word with distaste, "a tease for the creatures of the Fade."

"Why would they pit me against such a creature?" she asked, and this time she was less successful at keeping the anger out of her voice.

"A question for those in the Tower," Mouse answered with just the slightest smirk, "maybe you'll be lucky enough to ask. Maybe someday, so will I." He turned away from her to regard the path they were standing on, still winding away and out of sight past them. "There are other spirits here. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see."

_Like a talking mouse_? Elias thought to herself.

"I'll follow, if that's alright," Mouse said with a nod. "My chance was long ago, but . . . you may have a way out."

"I would be glad of the company," she answered honestly, trying not to let the relief show on her face.

Without a word, he reverted back to a mouse and stood staring up at her. The young girl wanted to ask if he needed to be carried but thought better of it, instead steeling herself and then plunging, cautiously, down the road once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_With passion'd breath does the darkness creep._

_ It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep._

Canticle of Transfigurations 1:5

They travelled in silence. After a few minutes the path sloped downward and to the right and Elias slowed her pace even further, afraid of tripping on the ethereal half-ground. She wasn't entirely sure it was possible to trip, but didn't want to find out it was by accidently planting herself face-first into a Fade-tree. Mouse followed behind her, and she refrained with trouble from asking him questions about himself and when he had come here. She doubted he would answer them, and they might make him angry; above all else, she was relieved to no longer be alone, and Elias did not want him to leave her company.

The path eventually leveled out, and to their immediate right was an empty area about the size of where Elias had woken up, crescent-shaped and enclosed by a moat that glowed with fire. Above the moat were small mounds, almost hills, each with several gnarled tree branches jutting out and pointing skyward, all easily fifteen to twenty feet tall. Blue crystals, growing right out of the ground, poked up on the right side of the enclosure, which upon further inspection proved to be lyrium. Elias had never seen pure lyrium, and doubted that this was what it actually looked like. _Maybe it's what my subconscious mind thinks it looks like_, she thought to herself as she passed by it.

"This is where the test will take place," Mouse commented quietly, indicating the hollow she was examining. "The creature can be anywhere, but it manifests there."

"So why hasn't it manifested?" Elias asked him, alarmed.

"You still have time to prepare," Mouse responded. "It has not found you yet. But when it does, the battle will be here."

She swallowed hard and closed her mouth. "No need to stay, then."

Turning on her heel, she trotted off down the trail, interested in putting as much distance between them and her demon as it was possible to do. She knew that she would have to face it eventually, but couldn't help feeling that if she just looked a little longer, she might have something more concrete to fight it with.

A short distance away from the alcove they were ambushed by another wisp. Elias stepped in front of Mouse to shield him and fired her own bolt of electricity at it, which connected with a flash and the smell of burning air. Turning around to ask Mouse if he was alright, something hit the brunette squarely in the shoulder, knocking her off her feet. She landed on her back and groaned, flipping herself back up quickly to ward off further attacks, but none came.

"What was that?" she asked hoarsely, gingerly fingering her sore shoulder.

"The wisp wraith that attacked you," he said calmly. "It managed to send off that bolt before you killed it. You didn't notice it when you turned around to look at me."

Elias sighed. "Are you alright?"

"_I_ am fine. _You_ don't have much time. We need to be going."

"Yes, yes," Elias said under her breath, still holding her shoulder. She closed her eyes and calmed her thoughts, feeling her mind go temporarily numb as she felt the particles in the air around her and inside her coalesce and center around her body. A warm sensation filled her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes the soreness was gone.

"That's handy," Mouse commented.

"I always thought so," she replied, picking herself up and continuing on.

Not far down the road was another opening, devoid of the morbid, crumbling architecture that the rest of the Fade had presented, but instead filled with dead trees unlike any she had ever seen before. They stretched up perhaps fifteen feet each, branchless, with long vines coming out of the tops of each and falling downward like hair, no doubt pulled by the gravity that her mind imposed. All along the ground were jutting round shell-shaped oddities as tall and wide as she was, the same brown color as the rest of the landscape.

Behind and parallel to the path she walked with Mouse was what was no doubt a spirit, iridescent and in the shape of a man, wearing armor that resembled what the templars wore. Behind him stood several stands filled with what might have been weapons of different sorts, the burning anvil on which they were no doubt forged still flaming behind the spirit-knight. He stood before them, irresolute and unmoving, their silent guardian, and Elias wished she could have found the weapons without having to deal with the spirit first.

She approached cautiously, but before she could shout out a greeting that she was worried she might regret, Mouse spoke to her.

"Another spirit this way. It never seemed equal to its name, to me."

Elias turned to her companion. "What's its name?"

Mouse nodded in the direction of the spirit, but remained silent. _Very helpful._

She walked again toward the spirit, stopping several feet away before addressing it.

"Greetings, spirit," Elias called out, hoping she sounded unafraid.

"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see," he replied by way of a greeting. His voice was full and robust, and the young apprentice wondered what it was he was doing here, exactly. She had heard that friendly spirits as well as malicious ones resided in the Fade, but had never met one. "Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other, to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon."

Elias nodded. "I agree, but I didn't have a choice."

"Indeed. The choice, and the fault, lies with the mages who sent you here." The young apprentice-mage felt a pang of pride in the pit of her stomach to be told, even by a spirit, that what was done to her and others like her was morally wrong. She refocused her attention as the entity continued. "That you remain means you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come."

Hoping that she was not making a grave mistake, Elias swallowed and gathered her courage. "I need your help," she said plainly to it, hoping it would reward her bravery with something shiny and sharp lying behind it.

"Of course," the spirit replied, now sounding slightly annoyed. "You are not the first mortal to seek my aid. I am not here to assist _you_, however. My purpose is to seek perfection, creating the ultimate weapon for the pursuit of valor."

"Did you create all those weapons?" Elias asked reverently, indicating the stockpile behind the being with a nod of her head, and pretending that he had not just told her that he would not be helping her.

"They are brought into being by my will," the spirit answered her proudly. "I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones that can will things into being. Those mortals who cannot must lead such hollow, empty lives."

At these words, Elias had to almost physically restrain herself from laughing out loud. She refrained from remarking that all those who _did_ have the power of creation were locked in a tower like criminals with little hope of escape, hated and nearly universally feared by society, and that the sentence for leaving such a life was death. As tempting as it was to share this news, she feared she was running out of time, and didn't have more to spare for pointless questions about the mistreatment of mages.

"Would one of these weapons affect the demon?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound opportunistic.

"Without a doubt. In this realm, everything that exists is an expression of a thought. Do you think these blades be steel?" he asked incredulously, motioning behind him once more, "These staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood?" He stared at her intently, and though he had no eyes that she could discern, Elias still felt like he was looking into and through her, and found it unsettling. "A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes that need reality . . . do you truly desire one of my weapons?" he asked her finally, sounding mildly surprised. "I will give one to you . . . if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it _should_ be tested."

All the amusement that she had been feeling the moment before vanished in an instant. _Duel you?_ Her mind screamed in horror. _Duel you!_ Elias was almost tempted to except just for an excuse to wail on this creature. Would no one help her because it was the right thing to do? Must she fight everyone? For all she knew, this was just another demon disguised as a friendly spirit, trying to take her life before she even had a chance to face her real challenge. She was so disgusted that she could hardly speak.

"It seems you would prefer to kill me yourself," she said harshly, fury nearly overtaking her.

"How dare you!" the spirit bellowed, incensed. "I am no demon, preying upon helpless mortals to steal their essence! I am a spirit of honor and valor! I am a _warrior_."

"Then prove it!" Elias thundered at it, motioning behind her violently at the way she had come, toward the space where she would inevitably have to face her adversary. "Help me fight the demon!"

"You are _insolent_" the spirit said with a snarl. "But your will . . . is unquestionably strong."

Elias thought she might have just gone deaf.

Valor surveyed her for just a fraction of a second before he continued speaking. "Very well, mortal. You proved to me that you possess the strength to resist this demon. Go. Prove your worth as you must. I am confident you will succeed."

And from behind him he drew a staff, as tall as she and made of what looked like iron. For such a weapon it was light, and just the right size to be held with both hands. It was fairlyhandsome, withdual tendrils twisting from the top around each other and slowly growing into one and narrowing halfway down. Near the top, suspended between the coils was as if between the heads of two serpents was an orb, smaller than her fist and scarred with tiny pockmarks that subtracted slightly from its brilliance.

Holding it in her hands, she regarded the Spirit of Valor somewhat guiltily. "Thank you," she said genuinely, holding up the staff.

Apparently she had offended the creature enough that it felt a continued conversation was not worthwhile, for it did not answer, just continued to watch her in silence as she stared at it. Sighing to herself, she turned and walked a little ways down the path before addressing Mouse instead.

"Well, that ended rather differently than I thought, " she admitted quietly.

"You are lucky he did not cleave you in two with his sword, sharp-tongued as you were," Mouse answered her, sounding both annoyed and appraising. "But at least you got what you came for. Are you ready to move on?"

"No rush or anything," Elias said under her breath, walking ahead of her companion and farther down the trail.

They trekked on without speaking, each lost to their own thoughts, the same scenery of giant shells and warped trees all blending together and looking identical. _It's a good thing there's only one path here_, Elias thought to herself with a smirk, _I would be immediately lost._ After several minutes alone they were ambushed again.

This time their enemy appeared out of nowhere directly in front of her, as if summoned. It had the shape of a small wolf, but was made of the same shimmering immaterial that Valor had been. The spirit-wolf snarled at her and lunged, teeth bared, for her midsection.

"Maker's breath!" she exclaimed through gritted teeth, throwing herself to the side. The creature missed her stomach but latched itself onto her arm, breaking through the skin and drawing blood. She hissed and grabbed what must pass for fur, electricity coming out of her hand and shocking it enough that it let go and bounded back several paces. Ignoring her stinging arm, she brought her staff around and fired off a bolt of energy, hitting the creature square in the face. Furious, it lunged for her again only to receive another lightning bolt to the abdomen. It howled piteously and exploded into wisps of air, fizzling out into the sky and disappearing. Elias was about to re-holster her staff when she realized that another wolf was before her, barreling down the path and growling menacingly.

She fired off another bolt of energy from her staff that connected with the wolf's shoulder. The animal seemed not to notice. Cursing to herself, the young mage again attempted to launch herself away from her assailant. It dove past her and missed by inches, giving her enough time to swerve around and throw another attack its way, which sailed over its head and scorched the ground behind it. Bounding toward her once more, not quite quick enough to avoid it this time, it latched itself firmly onto her sore shoulder, wrenching her painfully to the ground. In a panic, Elias hurled another bolt of electricity at it which hit and sent it flying backward, rolling over itself before regaining its footing. Before the thing could reorient, she brought her arms forward quickly and watched as a bolt of arcane energy stuck it full-force; like its companion, it too seemed to come apart into tiny puffs of vapor that disapparated as quickly as they were seen. Turning around, she saw a third spirit coming quickly from the direction she and just departed, nearly falling over itself in its haste to catch her.

"Is there no end to these creatures?" she asked no one in particular, bring her staff to bear on the new threat.

Moving quickly, Elias managed to bring off two attacks before it reached her and Mouse. Howling in fury, it was perhaps an inch from her arm before she managed to kill it, striking it with a blast from her staff and watching as it evaporated. Looking around for several seconds and realizing no more attacks were imminent, she replaced her staff firmly on her back and sat down, feeling weakened and angry. _Just wait until I pass this test_, she raged, _Maker help me, I'm going to kill Greagoir for throwing me in here! Kill him! _She remained on the ground for several moments, regaining her breath and reassuring herself that someday she would have the opportunity to light the Knight-Commander on fire. After a few minutes she decided that she had wasted enough time and got to her feet, marching crossly off down the walkway with Mouse in tow, still following silently.

They had been travelling for less than thirty seconds when Mouse said, "Be cautious . . . there is another spirit here. Not the one hunting you, but still . . ."

_Kill him!_ Elias' mind thundered again, but she held her tongue.

The trail sloped upward once again, and after a few yards finally ended in another bowl-shaped outcropping that was mostly empty, save for the same odd trees and one being, slouched on its belly and evidently asleep. It resembled a large bear, but with long reddish-brown hair and spikes protruding from its back. There was no doubt, this time, that this being was a demon. It was easily three times her size, and if the Spirit of Valor made Elias uneasy, it was nothing next to this huge, slumbering monster that she was about to attempt to interact with.

Giving herself no time to think about the repercussions, the brunette strolled boldly toward the creature and addressed it, but politely.

"Greetings," she said courteously. "Will you deign to speak with me?"

"Hmm. . . So you are the mortal being hunted." The giant animal did not move an inch, still seeming to be asleep, but a low,lazy voiceanswered her that could be coming from nothing else. "And the small one . . . is he to be a snack for me?"

Elias made to step in front of her small friend but as if in answer, he transformed, becoming once again human-seeming, and striding up to stand next to her.

"I don't like this," he said nervously to her, although she was certain the demon could hear them. "He's not going to help us. We should go."

Without a word the giant bear stood up to survey them more closely. Elias was horrified to note that on its feet, the thing was much larger than it had first appeared and actually stood taller than she. Its eyes were a glowing crimson red, its bulbous nose almost bigger than one of her hands, and the claws springing from each foot were easily six inches long and no doubt razor-sharp.

"No matter," it said to them in the same dull, listless voice. "The demon will get you, eventually, and perhaps there will even be scraps left."

"What kind of spirit are you?" Elias asked it, though she knew the answer.

"It's a demon," Mouse told her in exasperation. "Maybe even more powerful than the one chasing after you."

"Be gone," the demon said to them suddenly, turning around. "Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal." It yawned and lay back down, as if to continue speaking to them was a task more taxing than it could bear. "I tire of you already."

"I need help defeating a demon," she said brazenly, hoping that this thing was indeed so lazy that it wouldn't attack her even if she was impertinent.

"You have a very nice staff," it replied without moving. It yawned deeply and continued. "Why do you need me? Go; use your weapon, since you have earned it. Be valorous."

"He looks powerful," Mouse whispered to her. "It might be possible that he could teach you to . . . be like him."

"Like me?" the demon asked, surprised. "You mean . . . teach the mortal to take this form? Humph," it grumbled, still refusing to look at them. "Why? Most mortals are too attached to their forms to learn the change. You on the other hand, little one, might be a better student. _You_ let go of your human form years ago."

"I don't think I'd make a very good bear," Mouse replied hesitantly, sounding uncomfortable. "How would I hide?"

"You could help me fight the demon," Elias told him, hoping yet again that she didn't sound opportunistic.

"It's true," Sloth replied thoughtfully. "I am quite powerful in this form . . . when I wish to be."

Mouse appeared to think it over for a minute.

"I . . . welcome the opportunity," he responded, sounding bitter, "if it is my _choice_. The mages in the tower are quick to volunteer others, as you well know." He sighed, sounding slightly dejected. "I'll try. I'll try to be a bear, if you'll teach me."

"That's nice," the bear replied, very nearly asleep. "But teaching is _so_ exhausting. Away with you now."

Her companion sighed in disgust. "I told you he wasn't going to help us."

"Mouse wants to learn," Elias remarked testily to the beast. "Teach him."

Sloth began to sound slightly impatient. "You wish to learn my form, little one?" "Then I have a challenge for your friend. Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. Fail, and I will devour you both. The decision is yours."

The young girl's first inclination was to ask the beast if it were joking. A riddle game? It took that much effort to teach a willing pupil to transform did it, that riddles were a necessary precursor? But on second thought, she realized that it was possible that demons didn't have much of a sense of humor. Her experience was somewhat limited in this area, so she couldn't' be sure. Elias also toyed with the idea of threatening to kill it, but doubted that a small, disembodied apprentice mage with a mouse as her companion would prove intimidating to a bear-demon with spikes littering its back. Could she really pass such a test? For the first time she was very glad that Jowan was not with her; he was horrible at riddle-games.

"I accept your challenge, Sloth," Elias said, putting one hand on her staff, just in case. The demon appeared not to notice.

"Truly?" it responded, sounding mildly surprised. "Hmm. . . Well, this gets more and more promising." It stayed seated, head buried in its paws, and Elias surmised that it would not be getting up to question her. _Just as well_, she thought to herself, _those eyes made me nervous._

"My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

"Ah . . . just a moment," she said, thinking. _Seas with no water, coasts with no sand . . . a dream? No, that's not it, it doesn't fit . . . a desert has seas with no water, but the rest is incorrect. . . _

"A map," she answered, the idea springing into conscious thought just as her mouth formed the words.

"Humph. Correct," Sloth said, disgruntled. "Let's move on. The second riddle: I'm rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

Elias smirked to herself. "My tongue, obviously."

"Yes, your _witty_ tongue," the demon replied, more annoyed still. "Fair enough. One more try, shall we?"

_At least that one was easy_, she thought to herself. The young brunette held her breath and waited.

"Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

Feeling the apprehension leave her shaking body, she replied, "A dream."

"Humph. You are correct," Sloth admitted grudgingly. "Rather apropos here in the Fade, no? But you've won my challenge and proved yourself an amusing distraction. . . "

At this the demon finally rose to its feet, fixing its alarming blood-red eyes upon Mouse as if to size him up. "Now, listen carefully. . ."

For the next half an hour, by Elias' guess, the Sloth demon proceeded to instruct Mouse in the finer ways of becoming another animal. Mouse seemed to learn quickly, growing closer and closer to a recognizable form with each succeeding transformation, but as Elias watched, she could understand why the being had said that she would be ill-suited to such a skill. It seemed to require rather a lot of abstract-thinking and a willingness to unmake yourself that she found slightly uncomfortable. Had she been the pupil it would probably have taken much too long and the templars would have killed her, leaving her stranded here indefinitely with her new ally. A disturbing thought.

Finally both Mouse and Sloth seemed satisfied with the form that Mouse had acquired. While not looking very much like Sloth, her friend was now undeniably a bear. Smaller, black-furred, and devoid of spikes, he was still not an adversary that she would take lightly should it come to a fight. Elias hoped that Mouse found a confidence to match his form before the battle with her demon came.

"Like this?" the bear that was Mouse asked, sounding both surprised and pleased with himself. "Am I a bear? It feels so . . . heavy."

"Hmm. Close enough," Sloth answered, once again sounding bored. "Go, then, and defeat your demon. Or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling."

And with that the conversation was at a close, the demon-bear once again lying down and attempting to snooze. The young apprentice decided it was best to leave the creature be. It probably wouldn't give them any more information, and pestering it would only convince it to fight them. So Elias turned around, the mouse-turned-bear in tow, and retreated down the path that they had come.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I have been re-doing all the chapters so they're not . . . you know, eighteen pages + long. This one ended up a little shorter than the others, but oh well! Anyway, please read/review!

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age. Not I, nor my husband, nor my kids, nor my seven cats, and suing any of us would be silly. Although knock yourself out, it's fine, I didn't need that three dollars I have left in the bank, anyway.

Chapter 4

Elias' trip with Mouse down the gloomy and dangerous Fade-road was silent and uneventful. _How much time has gone by? _The girl wondered to herself as she walked. _Surely only an hour at most? It's so hard to keep track of time here, one moment sort of bleeds into the next. . . _

She and Mouse were within sight of Valor's camp when they were ambushed, this time surrounded by four snarling spirit-wolves that had enough sense to attack simultaneously. Now that she wasn't the only one fighting, Elias felt much more at ease, and their opponents were quickly dispatched. Mouse's new form proved to be even more useful than she had hoped, as it was hardy and difficult to injure him, giving her time to fire off her deadly spells from afar and eliminate all threats before either of them was seriously hurt. Mouse sustained some minor wounds that she promptly healed before they moved on.

The moved quickly further and further down the road until they were within sight of the outcropping where her demon was to appear. Before they could reach it, her companion reverted back to his human form and spoke.

"I've never felt this way before," he said in a hushed voice, giving Elias a look that she couldn't read. It took her a few second to realize that he was talking about his new abilities.

"How have you survived here so long?" she asked, allowing admiration to creep into her voice. She had become rather fond of the fellow since coming here, and was sad that she would have to inevitably leave his company.

"I missed my chance, so I became small," he replied simply, by way of an explanation. "Unnoticeable. I hide from the bigger things, learn from the smaller things." His eyes took on a faraway look as he continued. "There are places you can hide where the shadows go on forever. You stay there long enough and the shadows . . . begin to creep inside of you. I don't know how long it's been. Forever, maybe."

"Is there no way I can help you get out of here?" she asked him earnestly.

"Out of here? Out of the Fade?" Mouse asked skeptically. "I don't know. . . I don't have a body waiting for me. It's not something I try to think about. Stay here too long, and it's like being adrift. Pieces of you float away . . . until you're not even a memory."

"Are you certain?" Elias pleaded. She knew that there wasn't much she could do, but it seemed massively unfair that this man had been chucked into the Fade to die. If there was something that she could do to help him, she needed to do it.

"I have no example to compare myself against," Mouse answered. "Only people like you, taking the Harrowing. Mages, the real ones that come here, they ignore me. They think I'm a spirit pretending to _be_ me," he said in disgust. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's just. . ." here he paused, and his tone softened as he looked at her, becoming tired and sad. "Let's just . . . get you out of here."

And with that the subject was closed, and Mouse became a bear again. Elias decided to let the matter drop. What she could or could not do for her new friend would be settled after the demon that hunted them had been dealt with. So she sighed and was about to return to the path when Mouse startled and stopped, staring ahead of her and into the fiery crescent that she had been steadfastly avoiding. She immediately knew what it was he saw.

It was a demon, slightly smaller than Sloth and resembling him not at all, standing in the clearing as if summoned. This was a being in its true form, with a barely recognizable shape and made of pure flame. It stood around her height and was vaguely humanoid, with arms ending in the appearance of clawed hands and eyes as fiery as its body. Its misshapen mouth was overly large and full of what looked like very sharp teeth. This undoubtedly was the thing that had been hunting her.

"And there it is," the bear whispered to her in a hushed voice, "a spirit of rage."

Elias hesitated only a few seconds. _Let's get this over with_. She missed Jowan and was desperate to tell him that she had succeeded. One way or the other, this would all be over soon. Everything she had learned, everything that had ever been taught to her, every experience of her life had all led up to this moment. More than anything, more even that fear, the young girl felt relieved. After this, even if she was dead, she could rest. It would be done. And so, with head held high, she marched proudly across the burning plain, Mouse at her heels.

The young apprentice stopped when she was directly in front of her adversary and waited. It surveyed her for several seconds before speaking.

"And so it comes to me, at last," the monster rumbled in its gravelly voice, staring at her hungrily. The thing sounded familiar, and Elias realized with a start that it was this being that she had heard speaking into her mind as she lost consciousness. A cold, unreasonable fear seized her momentarily, but she fought it off impatiently. _No time to lose it_ she chided herself.

But the thing was not done speaking. "Soon I shall see the land of the living through your eyes, creature," it promised her. "You shall be mine, body and soul."

"It's two against one," Elias pointed out calmly, trying to reason with the entity, although she doubted that it would do much good. "You really want to fight us both?"

"Amusing. . . "The demon purred, soundly highly pleased by something."Have you not told it of our . . . arrangement, Mouse?"

Elias felt like shards of ice had fallen helter-skelter into her stomach. _Arrangement?_ What arrangement? What could he be talking about . . . ? She turned to Mouse, disbelief evident on her face, but he was ignoring her, staring instead at the demon. _Mouse . . . has betrayed me?_ She was finding it hard to think. Mouse couldn't betray her. She had trusted him. . .

"We don't have an arrangement," Mouse said forcefully, almost angrily, still avoiding Elias' gaze. "Not anymore."

_He wouldn't . . . he couldn't do that. . . _

"Ahhh, and after all those wonderful meals we have shared?" the demon asked, sounding disappointed. "Now suddenly the Mouse has changed the rules?"

"I'm not a mouse now," Mouse told it proudly. "And soon I won't have to hide. I don't need to bargain with you."

"We shall see. . . "The demon answered, and charged.

And, to Elias' dismay, the demon bypassed her and went straight for Mouse, who ran forward to intercept the thing with alacrity. _Well, at least he's fighting on my side_, Elias thought, still stung. Just as well; she would have time to deal with her companion when the demon was disposed of.

She turned and fired everything she had at the creature, allowing all of her fear and anger to come pouring out of her as she did so. She hit it with bolt after bolt of electricity, but still it focused on Mouse, as if intent to see him defeated before turning and coming for her. After several seconds she noticed that the demon had summoned four of the wisp-creatures that she had faced earlier to help him, all of them trained on her, as if realizing that she was the proper target. One hit her in the chest with an energy bolt that she wasn't able to dodge. Mouse hesitated for a second before turning his attention from the rage demon and heading for the wisp, as if to draw its fire off of Elias.

"Ignore it! Attack the demon!" Elias yelled over the fray, dodging another attack as she fired off a bolt of energy from her staff that connected with the rage demon. "He summoned these things! If we kill him, they might go away!"

Without hesitation, Mouse charged back to the demon once more, leaving Elias to fend for herself against the four wisps. Taking her own advice, Elias too ignored the wisps and focused her attacks on the demon, only stopping long enough to dodge the bolts of energy that were chucked her way. Whether fueled by her fury or simple luck, she managed to avoid being hit again, rolling to the side and ducking behind the only cover in sight-the lyrium vein. Charging out into the middle, Elias sent one more frenzied bolt at the demon and watched as it fell to the ground, spent. As she had predicted, as soon as their master was vanquished, the spirit-wisps vanished and their attacks ceased.

A wave of relief so immense washed over her that she thought at first she was going to be sick. _So it's over. Thank the Maker._ She breathed hard for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath, her heart beating so fiercely in her chest that she thought it might just stop altogether, spent. _Now, to deal with you. . . _

"You did it!" Mouse said, rejoining her, human again, staring into her with his green eyes. "You actually did it!" He sounded fierce and excited, and totally oblivious to the fact that his companion's face was stony and impassive. "When you came I hoped that maybe you might be able to . . . but I never really thought any of you were worthy."

_Any of you?_ Her mind thundered, appalled at what she was hearing. Elias felt her throat closing from the unshed tears of wrath that threatened to well up and explode within her. _How many . . . how many did he . . .?_

"The ones you betrayed before me . . . what were their names?" she hissed through clenched teeth, body absolutely still so as to stop herself from shaking.

'What?" he asked, sounding confused. "They were not as promising as you! It was a long time ago. I. . . I don't remember their names." He sounded slightly guilty, as if the thought of all those he had lured to an early grave were cause for a moment's pause, but nothing more. With great effort, Elias kept herself from hitting him. "I don't even remember my own name! It's the Fade, and the templars, killing me. Like they tried with you," he reminded her.

"Anything to survive," she retorted with a snarl, shaking her head in disgust. "Like an animal. Or worse."

"I am what the Fade has made me," Mouse said without apology. "Am I to blame for that? Deciding to exist or not exist is not a fair choice. I _had_ no choice. You have shown me other possibilities." And suddenly he sounded different, opportunistic, cunning, and it made the young girl uneasy. "If you want to help, there may be a way for me to leave here. To get a foothold outside . . . you just need to want to let me in. . . ."

But Elias took a step back, gazing in wonder as if only seeing Mouse clearly for the first time.

"I'm starting to think the other demon wasn't my test," she answered quietly.

"What?" Mouse said incredulously. "What are you . . . of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?" But here he paused and fixed her with his piercing green glare, and Elias knew she was right.

He laughed quietly to himself and smirked. "You _are_ a smart one." And Mouse's face grew harsh, and his voice became deep, inhuman, something cruel and awful and horrifying, and Elias found herself transfixed, wanting desperately to leave but unable to look away as her former friend started to speak again.

"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconception, careless trust . . . pride."

As if in sync with his voice, his body transformed as well, and Elias took a step back as she watched him grow and become enormous, changing into something hideous and ancient, unnamable and awful. She felt herself begin to pale as the thing towered over her, bigger by far than anything else she had ever seen.

"Keep your wits about you, mage," he warned finally, becoming insubstantial and disappearing until only his voice remained. "True tests never end. . . "

Elias stood with the fires blazing around her in shock for a few seconds more. Than a familiar feeling of vertigo hit her and she knew that she had passed, that she was going back, and when oblivion took her, she welcomed it with the gladness of one who has been away from home for far too long.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is still slightly longer than I would have liked, but I couldn't find a good place to break it up. So, apologies.

And thanks capricious one for pointing out my error! I did mean "fleshed out," and not "flushed out." Oops.

Read/Review! Thankee!

Chapter 5

The first thing Elias felt from the darkness of her slumber was warmth. Soft, enveloping warmth spreading up from her back and slowly going down her legs and into her arms, rising up the nape of her neck and flushing her cheeks. It didn't matter. She was comfortable, and she was safe, and, most importantly, she was not in the Fade.

It was with this thought that she opened her eyes and looked around blearily. She was back in the apprentices' dorms, lying in her own bed, with the midday sun filtering in through the high windows. Her vision was blurred, and her body ached all over, as if she had just fallen down all the steps from the Harrowing chamber and landed pell-mell onto her cot. She noticed, too, that her stomach was growling in protest from two missed meals, but ignored it.

"Are you alright?" a worried voice asked to her right, and she turned toward its sound. The person inquiring was also a blur, but she had a fair guess as to who it might be. "Say something, please!" the voice pleaded.

"Jowan?" Elias asked groggily, lifting herself slowly from the pillows and sitting up.

"I'm glad you're alright!" Jowan said quickly, sounding relieved as he threw his arms around her in a tight hug. "They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night. I've heard about apprentices that never come back from Harrowings." And to Elias' dismay, her friend's voice grew from concerned to almost excited. "Was it really that dangerous?" he asked. "What was it like?"

Elias sighed and sat down on the bed, putting her head in her hands. "I know we're friends," she said guiltily, "but don't ask this. You know I can't tell you."

She could tell immediately that she had made him mad. "Humph. So much for friendship. I'll leave you alone, then," he said, nettled, speaking quickly and turning away. Elias sighed again. Jowan always spoke more rapidly when he was upset.

"For now, you get to move to the nice Mage's Quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here, and I don't know _when_ they'll call me for my Harrowing." He crossed his arms and refused to look at her. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that once she passed her test that she would not simply be going back to her room and Jowan, that she would be moving upstairs to different quarters and would now no longer be in lessons with her friend. The thought made her infinitely wearier.

Elias stared at the floor, feeling guilty. _What am I doing, keeping this from Jowan?_ She asked herself, disgusted. _Isn't this the sort of thing that we always complained about? The lies, the secrecy, the mistrust? Why am I doing this to him? _

"Any day now, probably," she replied in answer, not giving voice to any of the many feelings and thoughts bombarding her mind.

Jowan did not seem to notice his friend's lack of enthusiasm for their conversation. "I've been here longer than you have," he stated matter-of-factly. "Sometimes I think they just don't _want_ to test me_."_

"But doesn't everyone go through the Harrowing?" Elias asked, finally removing her head from her hands and staring up at her him.

"The Tranquil never go through a Harrowing," Jowan reminded her. "You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility or . . . you die. That's what happens."

Of course it was. What was she thinking of? Some part of Elias felt like she had gone off and lived an entirely different life without Jowan, and she was just now being returned to her previous one, an older and more jaded individual. It terrified her to think how close she had come to failing. She had trusted the wrong being at a crucial moment. And it had nearly killed her. Or worse.

As if dragging a screaming child, she forced her mind to return to the present. "They're not going to kill you, Jowan," the young woman reassured him.

"Maybe not," he admitted, though his voice sounded just as worried. "But the Rite of Tranquility is just as bad, maybe worse. You've seen the Tranquil around the Tower," he reminded her with a nod of his head. "Like Owain that runs the stockroom. He's so cold. No, not even cold," Jowan corrected himself, clearly horrified by the subject matter. "There's just . . . nothing in him. It's like he's dead but walking. His voice, his eyes . . . are lifeless."

Elias had to agree. To be cut off from the Fade, from dreams, from your own emotions . . . to be made Tranquil was a horror that not even the Harrowing could compare with. This was probably why only those too weak of will to withstand demonic possession were ever made Tranquil. Or those who were considered too dangerous to take their Harrowing. But Jowan was neither of those. Surely his Harrowing would come soon . . .?

"I think you're just reading too much into it," Elias reassured him again with a pat to the shoulder and a light smile.

"Err . . ." Jowan seemed unsure of himself for a moment but regained his composure quickly. Elias noted that he was still speaking faster than was normal, which probably meant the he was upset and only pretending to be calm. "I shouldn't waste your time with this," he continued, avoiding her gaze. "I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

"What for?" Elias asked with a frown, assuring herself that she would allay Jowan's fears at a later time.

"He didn't tell me," Jowan said with a shrug. "About the Harrowing, I'd guess. But you never know with Irving." He gave her a wry smile that made Elias feel marginally better. "You'd better not keep him waiting. We can speak later."

He smiled once more and walked away, out the door and down the hallway. He seemed calmer, but Elias knew that he was simply shoving his fears to the back of his mind. Guilt seized her again, and she almost went after him. _I'm sorry, Jowan. I don't know what I was thinking_, her mind whispered to his retreating back. _As soon as I find out what Irving wants, I'll make it up to you. I'll tell you all about it, I swear._ But for now she had been summoned, so she sighed and turned her steps toward finding the First Enchanter.

As she strolled across the length of the dormitory floor, she felt her usually short hair hit the nape of her neck, and realized that it had come loose sometime during the course of her Harrowing. Deciding that it would bother her more than was worth the trouble, she turned back to her bed and the trunk at its foot long enough to retrieve some twine and pull it back.

She bent down to undo the lock and caught a snippet of whispered conversation from two apprentices across the room, who apparently did not know as yet that she was awake. Realizing that they were talking about her, the young mage did her best to remain quiet so as to catch what they were saying.

"Did you hear anything?" a young female around her own age asked her companion. From the voice, Elias suspected it was Aimee, a friendly woman a year her junior who she had always been on good terms with. "Is she alright? Is she awake?"

Elias ducked down lower next to her locker, feeling slightly guilty for eavesdropping. _Well, they _are_ talking about me_ . . .

"Why do you care? Are you best friends, now?" the second one answered. Elias was certain that this voice belonged to Nadia, a devout, high-strung nitwit that had once landed her in solitary confinement for a week after Elias had hit her with a bolt of lightning. _You deserved it_, Elias thought to herself waspishly as the girls continued their conversation. _Hit Jowan in the face for accidently singeing your new robes, will you? You're lucky I didn't freeze you solid and toss you out a window . . ._

"I'm just curious!" Elias heard Aimee say with a laugh. "That templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen! He says she's _very_ talented and _very _brave."

"Well, he _would_, wouldn't he?" her friend replied, as if this were obvious. Elias felt that she had missed something in that exchange, but was not in a position to inquire what it was.

"I just know I'll be terrified when my time comes," Aimee finished, her voice beginning to trail off as she and Nadia slowly made their way from where Elias was crouched, hidden. "Like Wendell was. He threw up every day for the next week just thinking about it . . . "

At any other time the young mage knew she would have felt immensely pleased with herself. Now she was too tired to care. She sighed and retrieved the twine, pulling her hair back in the in three ponytails she always wore, and headed out of the dormitory and down the hall in search of the First Enchanter.

As she walked, she let the usual sounds of the Tower fill her, reassure her that she was indeed home and all was as it should be. She passed apprentices and their tutors as they went through their daily lessons, strolled through the library where some of the youngest children were already being told about mages and the role they were to play in society. She scowled as she wondered how many of those children years from now would perish during their Harrowing, or choose to part with passion forever to avoid the possibility of death. The thought made her heartsick.

Deciding to take the long way around, she meandered along the halls, passing the guest quarters and the Mage's Dorm (which she peeked at quickly out of curiosity) and was almost at her destination when she caught the eye of one of the templars who seemed to her to be very familiar.

_Of course, _Elias remembered, _He was there during my Harrowing. I wonder what he's doing up here in an empty corridor? Cullen, I think it was._

As she approached she noted that he seemed unwilling to meet her gaze, staring instead at the ground awkwardly. She smiled fetchingly when she reached him, greeting him with a warmth it was hard to feel in the drafty corridors.

"Well met, good ser."

"Oh, um, h-hello," the templar stuttered at her, appearing even more disconcerted. "I . . . uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly."

"Tell me about it" Elias answered, smiling.

"Th-they picked me as the templar to strike the killing blow if . . . if you became an abomination," Cullen admitted in a rush, his eyes averted guiltily. "It's nothing personal, I swear! I . . . uh, I'm just glad you're alright, you know?"

Elias did not admit that she was surprised to learn of this. _For some reason_ she thought absently, _I always assumed that it would be Greagoir himself to end my life if I failed. Apparently he pawns those duties off on his men. The bleeding coward._

"Would you really have struck me down?" she asked him quietly, but she already knew the answer. She had never met a templar that would choose the life of a mage over his sworn duty. _Except maybe one_.

"I would have felt terrible about it," he started, and Elias' hunch was confirmed before he finished speaking. "But . . . but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."

Elias nodded. "I should not distract you from your duties." She turned to go, but Cullen's voice stopped her.

"Oh, you're not distracting!" he said quickly with a smile. "I mean, you _are, _but I mean . . . well, you're not. I mean," he stuttered out, his cheeks beginning to glow red, "you can talk to me anytime, if you want. Uh . . . uh, yes. Maybe we can talk another time . . ."

He nodded once to her politely and then retreated back the way she had come, walking a little faster than was necessary. Elias stared after him for several seconds, slightly confused. _Did what I think just happened just happen?_ She smiled to herself, the dark cloud that had hung over her since awakening lifted suddenly. _He certainly is handsome enough . . . I'll definitely have to speak with him later, in private. _The young mage laughed out loud to herself. Another templar. Jowan was going to kill her.

Remembering her task, she made her way more quickly to Irving's study. When she arrived, however, the First Enchanter was not seated at his desk as she had expected, but was standing speaking with Greagoir and another man with swarthy skin and black hair that she did not recognize. As she walked forward she noted that Greagoir and Irving seemed to be having some sort of argument, so she politely hung a ways back, pretending not to listen and waiting to be noticed

"Many have already gone to Ostagar," Greagoir was telling the First Enchanter forcefully. "Wynn, Uldred, and most of the senior mages. We have committed enough of our own to this war effort."

"Our own? Humph," Irving responded incredulously. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greigor?" He gave the Knight-Commander the slightest of smiles. "Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

"How_ dare_ you suggest-!"

"Gentlemen, please." The man with the dark hair had interceded, placing himself smoothly between Greagoir and Irving to keep them from quarreling. He glanced at Elias out of the corner of his eye, and she realized that he was probably the only one that had noticed her arrival. Turning to indicate her, he said, "Irving, someone is here to see you."

"You sent for me?" Elias asked respectfully, pretending for all the world like she had not just walked in on a heated debate.

"Ahh, if it isn't our new sister in the Circle," Irving said warmly, strolling forward to receive her. "Come, child."

The man she did not recognize moved forward to once again stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the First Enchanter. He was tall, but slight of build, with brooding dark eyes and weathered skin.

"This is . . . ?" he asked, once again indicating Elias.

"Yes, this is she," Irving said proudly.

"Well, Irving, you're obviously busy," Greagoir interjected, nettled at being ignored. "We will discuss _this_ later."

"Of course. Well, where was I?" he asked, turning back to Elias. "Oh yes . . . this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens," he said, indicating the dark-haired man to his left.

_A Grey Warden? Here in the Tower? _Elias' mind asked, curiosity piqued.

"Pleased to meet you," she said instead with a courteous bow.

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect?" Irving asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. Elias tried not to look too guilty. Apparently the Revered Mother was more observant than she had suspected. "Duncan is recruiting mages to join the King's army at Ostagar."

_I knew it! _Elias' mind thundered. _I knew there was something going on out there!_

"I would like to defend Ferelden," she answered at once, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get," Duncan answered her politely. "Especially from the Circle."

"What do you mean?" the young mage asked.

"The power you mages wield is an asset to any army," the Warden explained. "Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."

_A Blight? But there hasn't been a Blight for more than four hundred years . . . _

"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn," Irving said reproachfully, no doubt observing the look of horror on Elias' face. "This is a happy day for her."

Duncan gave the First Enchanter the briefest of smiles. "We live in troubled times, my friend."

"We should seize moments of levity _especially_ in troubled times," Irving answered. He turned to address Elias specifically before continuing. "The Harrowing is behind you, your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. You officially are a mage within the Circle of Magi."

_My leash, you mean_, the mage thought to herself, but did not say it.

"Thank you, First Enchanter," she said with another small bow of respect.

"I'm sorry," Duncan interrupted, sounding confused. "What is this 'phylactery'?"

"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the Tower," Irving explained, "and is preserved in special vials—"

"So they can be hunted if they turn apostate," Duncan finished, understanding. Elias was impressed to note the slight hint of distaste with which the Warden regarded such practice.

"We have few choices," Irving said, crossing his arms. "The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly. _You have done this_," he said suddenly, the pride coming back into his voice. "I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

"Thank you," Elias said, excepting the gifts that were handed to her.

"It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite," Irving said, giving Elias a hard look. The young mage made her face remain impassive as she listened. "Now then, take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours."

"I will do that," she replied with a smile. _Right after I find Jowan_.

"I will return to my quarters," Duncan said, nodding to the First Enchanter.

"Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room, child?" Irving asked.

Elias was slightly taken aback. Why would he ask her to do this? Did Duncan not know where his quarters were? But she was grateful for an excuse to speak to the Warden nonetheless, and took it.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Irving said, sounding deeply put-upon, "I have matters to discuss with Greagoir."

"Follow me," Elias said with a smile, motioning toward the door.

The pair exited the First Enchanter's study and made their way down the hall in silence. _He's a Warden, a _real_ Warden_, Elias told herself, _He doesn't want to be pestered with questions. You can always ask him later . . ._

They had traveled about ten feet when, much to her surprise and pleasure, Duncan broke the silence.

"Thank you for walking with me," he said with a friendly smile. "I'm grateful for the company."

"Of course," she answered, nodding. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you a little more. We get precious little news in here."

"Yes?" Duncan asked neutrally, "What did you wish to speak about?"

"Well, you said that you were here recruiting for the King's Army. Have there been many darkspawn attacks? Don't they usually confine themselves to the Deep Roads?"

"A horde has formed within the Korcari Wilds to the south," Duncan explained as they walked. "If they are not stopped, they will strike north into the valley. We Grey Wardens believe that an archdemon is leading the horde."

"An archdemon?" Elias blurted, horrified. "Are you serious? Are you sure?."

"Very," the older man said with a sigh. "I'm sure, though unfortunately I cannot tell you why." He paused momentarily, and in that moment he appeared to the young woman very weary. "It is dire news indeed. I fear this is what we will have to face."

"But I thought the darkspawn all destroyed in the last Blight?"

"We can't seem to eradicate them completely," Duncan replied with a half-smile. "Somehow they always come back."

"And the king is mustering an army to beat back this threat?" Elias asked breathlessly. It all seemed so hopelessly romantic to the young mage, although she would never have admitted it to Duncan.

"Yes," the Warden answered, sounding pleased. "Perhaps it will be enough if we play our cards right."

They continued on in silence for a few seconds more. Elias cleared her throat nervously before continuing.

"I know it's not my place . . ." she began, making it clear that she was going to ask despite that fact, "but . . . why were Greagoir and Irving arguing about the war?"

Duncan glanced away from her. "It is not my place to comment."

"Please," the young woman began earnestly, locking eyes with the Warden persuasively. "I'd like to know."

He stared at her for a second, mulling over her question, deciding whether or not to answer. Apparently he came to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt, as he paused for just a split second before addressing Elias again.

"Greagoir serves the Chantry," he said simply, "and the relationship between the Chantry and mages has always been strained. You've realized by now that the Chantry merely tolerates magic?"

_Tell me about it_, Elias thought in disgust.

Seeing the bitterness on her face, Duncan's expression softened slightly. "They watch only because they feel they must."

"Yes," Elias retorted, steering the conversation back to the point she had originally intended, "but they were arguing about the war."

"Any mages who join the king's army can unleash their full power on the darkspawn. In fact," the Warden said with a nasty smirk, "I'm counting on it. Greagoir may be afraid of what will happen. What if the mages decide they no longer want to be governed by the Chantry?"

"What are your opinions on the matter?" she asked, knowing she was bordering on rudeness at this point.

"I believe we must defeat the darkspawn, one way or another," Duncan said cautiously, and firmly. "My opinions end there."

Elias doubted very much that that was true, but was not about to press the man for more information than he was willing to give.

They had reached the guest quarters, and here Duncan took his leave, nodding to her courteously before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him. The young woman sighed to herself, irritated. She feared she had let her enthusiasm get the better of her during this encounter, and regretted her brash, prying words. Elias had just turned around to find Jowan, in theory to apologize, when she practically walked into him.

"Maker's breath, Jowan!" Elias said, clutching her chest. "Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"I'm glad I caught up to you," he said, completely ignoring her previous statement. "Are you finished talking with Irving?"

"I think so," she answered. "Why, is something wrong?" Elias noted that Jowan seemed upset, paranoid. His skin was several shades paler than it should have been and he kept looking over his shoulder, as if he was afraid of being caught at something.

"I need to talk to you," he whispered urgently, leaning in close so that he was sure to be heard. "Do you remember what we discussed this morning?"

"Of course I do, why?"

"We should go somewhere else," her friend said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder again. "I don't feel safe talking here."

Elias could feel her pulse quickening as she surveyed her friend's bizarre behavior. She couldn't remember ever seeing him so scared. Had something happened?

"You're really starting to worry me, Jowan," she told him under her breath, refusing to whisper as it might draw more attention to them.

"I've been troubled," he said with a nod. "I'll explain. Come with me, please."

Nodding, she allowed herself to be led away down the second floor corridor, past the mages dorm and First Enchanter's study and into the chapel. _Here?_ She asked herself incredulously. _He wants to talk here?_ It was the first time she could ever remember her friend bringing her into this room of his own volition.

Jowan strolled to the back and stopped in front of a girl that Elias did not recognize, but who was dressed in the long garments of one of the cloistered sisters of the Chantry. The young mage shifted her weight from foot to foot, refusing to allow herself to seem apprehensive to the priestess-in-training.

"We should be safe here," Jowan said, appearing slightly calmer now that they were no longer in the open corridor.

"In the chapel? The templars' favorite haunt?" Elias asked disbelievingly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"We can see the door from here," the priestess said, motioning to the exit. "If anyone comes, we'll change the subject."

"Jowan . . . _what_ is going on? Who _is_ this?"

"A few months ago, I told you that I . . . met a girl," Jowan said, sounding slightly uncomfortable. "This is Lily."

Elias felt a lop-sided grin creep unbidden onto her face. _An initiate? Jowan, you unbelievable hypocrite. _But she was not displeased. She turned to stare at Lily, who smiled warmly. She was pretty enough, Elias supposed. Her short chestnut hair hung down straight, framing a small, round face with kind brown eyes. She was tall and thin, and the young mage supposed that if her body were not covered by her Chantry robes, that she would be quite fetching.

She smirked at Jowan, trying to lighten the atmosphere slightly. "Ah, and here I was beginning to doubt her existence."

"I was afraid to tell anyone!" he explained defensively. "Lily was becoming a Chantry priest. She's taken vows . . .," he said guiltily. "She's not allowed to have . . . relations with men. If anyone finds out we'll both be in trouble."

"You know you can trust me!" Elias answered, feeling slightly hurt. "I won't tell anyone."

"I know, and thank you," Jowan responded, sounding relieved. "I knew you'd help us."

"So what's this all about?" the young mage asked. She doubted very much that Jowan had asked her to come here just to tell her about his forbidden romance. Not that that wasn't a tad entertaining of itself . . .

"You remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing?" he asked, glancing at the door to make sure they were not being overheard. "Well, I know why. They're . . . going to make me Tranquil!"

Elias felt as if her entire body had just been doused in icy water. She stared at her friend in horror, palms sweating, nauseated. What little calm he had managed to muster came crashing down as the full impetus of what was happening to him lit through his mind.

"They'll take everything I am from me!" he cried, terrified. "My dreams, hopes, fears . . . my love for Lily. All gone!"

After several seconds of tense silence Elias found her voice.

"Jowan, why? They . . . _can't_!"

"They'll extinguish my humanity!" he continued, pacing to and fro in his agitation. "I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing but not truly living!"

"Why . . . _why_ would they do this to you?"

"There's a rumor about me . . ." Jowan said, glancing away from Elias for just a split second. "People think I'm a blood mage. They think that making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone."

_Jowan, a blood mage? That's preposterous, Jowan would never . . . _But she had to be sure.

"Um, Jowan, are they . . . are they right about that?" she asked, disgusted with herself.

"Of course not!" Jowan said angrily. "But it's not safe for me here anymore. I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can't track me down." Here he fixed Elias with the most piercing stare he'd ever given her, and she felt her stomach tie itself into knots at the idea of never seeing him again. "We need your help. Lily and I can't do this on our own."

"Give us your word that you will help, and we will tell you what we intend," Lily told her in a hushed voice.

"But . . . can't you just explain everything to someone? Surely if we go to the First Enchanter—"

"If we tell anyone, Lily will be punished," he said, shaking his head, and she knew Jowan was right. "If you care what happens to me, please, _help us_!"

"Of course I'll help," she told her friend seriously. "I give you my word, you'll leave this tower safely."

"Thank you," Lily said, relieved. "We will never forget this."

"So, what do you intend to do?" Elias asked, shoving her emotions to the back of her mind. She could deal with them after they had successfully accomplished their goals.

Lily stepped forward slightly and nodded. "I can get us into the repository, but there is a problem."

_Isn't there always?_ Elias thought absently.

"There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door," Lily continued. "The first enchanter and knight-commander each hold one key. But it is just a door," she said, smiling. "There is power enough in this place to destroy all of Ferelden. What's a door to mages?"

"And what if it's a magical door?" Elias asked, trying not to sound negative.

"We have no choice," Jowan explained with a shrug. "We cannot get our hands on both keys." He thought for a few seconds and then exclaimed, "I once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock! You could get one from the stockroom . . . but Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices."

"Let's not waste more time, then," Elias said, beginning to stroll out of the chapel.

"We should stay here," Lily said, interrupting her. "One mage at the stockroom will attract less attention than a mage, an apprentice, and an initiate."

"Good idea," she said back, feeling slightly stupid.

"Good luck," Lily told her, smiling radiantly. "Our prayers go with you."

Elias turned around and exited the chapel, striding boldly out into the hallway until she was out of sight of Jowan and Lily. Once alone, she allowed herself a moment. One moment turned into two, and before she knew it she was hitting the stone wall again and again, sure that her hands were going to bleed but unable to care.

She felt like screaming. How could something like this happen? She had been friends with Jowan since they were small children, how could anyone suspect him of blood magic? Never before in her life had she ever hated anything so much as this Tower, with its impossible tests and hateful, watching eyes.

But all the while, doing this for Jowan felt like a betrayal of the only home she had ever known. If they succeeded, what would happen to her? Would she stay here alone for the rest of her days, under the watchful glare of the templars? Would she leave everything she had ever known behind her, and head out into the real world? She shook her head to herself. No, she knew she couldn't accompany them. Her phylactery had already been sent to Denerim. If she went with them, she would be a beacon leading the templars right to their location, and that wasn't fair to anyone.

And what would happen to Jowan? She had known him her entire life. Elias had taken it for granted that they would always be together, go to lessons and finish their Harrowing together, become mages and eventually senior enchanters together, side-by-side. And now he was leaving, and if all went according to plan, she would probably never see him again.

She hit the wall again, harder this time, and bit down on her lip hard to keep herself from crying. This wasn't the time for this. Her friend needed her, and she knew what she had to do.

So, composing herself as well as she could, she ducked into an alcove to change into her new mage's robes, and walked briskly into the stockroom to speak with Owain.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed!

Ryuu814, to answer your questions . . .

I chose the mage origin because, after playing through all six origin stories to the end of the game, the mage was my favorite, and also because of the path this story ultimately takes. With what I have planned, I really think the mage fits the best. I almost, _almost_ did this story from a male human noble perspective, since it's sort of the default for the game, but decided in the end that it was going to be a better story this way.

And you're right. xD Cailan's guards are wearing helmets. This was not originally intentional, but it was so late when I finished the chapter, I hoped no one would look closely enough at that scene to notice, because I only noticed toward the end, and I was exhausted. Now that someone _has_ pointed it out, however, I feel obligated to correct it. Haha. The other bit, though, with Cailan sprinting up to them, I threw in because I liked it. I originally set out to keep the material from the game _exactly_ as it is, but then ended up changing some dialogue here and there because it was off and didn't fit, and have decided that every once in awhile will probably not harm anything.

Please know that this story will end up with A LOT of original writing, which thankfully most people seem to enjoy right now. If anyone thinks I intend to fully describe in-detail every darkspawn battle the Wardens have, I assure you I will emphatically NOT be doing that. The beginning of the story to the point of arriving in Lothering is very exposition-heavy, as Bioware had to engage an audience and establish setting, characters, plot, etc. Once most of that gets done, almost all the dialogue and ensuing scenes will be original. This will also mark the beginning of the period where the author becomes an irrational basket-case. ;)

Whew! That was a lot to say! Write. Er. Whatever.

Also, as with the other chapters, I've split everything up. So it's . . . shorter, shinier and new?

Thanks for sticking with me!

Disclaimer: I really hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but I don't own Dragon Age. Not even a little. Please don't think less of me, I'm fragile.

Chapter 6

Thankfully, the stockroom was mostly empty, save for one or two others who were going about their own business and took no notice of her. Elias straightened her robes absent-mindedly, hoping that she looked normal.

She found Owain near the middle of the room, alone, silently pouring over a long piece of parchment. Elias walked up and cleared her throat quietly, waiting for him to notice her.

"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items," he said in his flat, toneless voice. "My name is Owain. How may I assist you?"

"I need a rod of fire," Elias answered offhandedly, as if she had asked for such things many times before.

"Rods of fire serve many purposes," Owain informed her, raising a single eyebrow questioningly. "Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"

Her mind went entirely blank. Elias stared at him, completely lost for a few seconds, before attempting an answer.

"I . . . need the rod for my research into . . . burning things." _Wonderful job. Not suspicious at all . . . _

Owain raised an eyebrow again and turned around, retrieving a small slip of parchment from behind him and handing it to the young woman. "Here is the form 'Request for Rod of Fire.' Have it signed and dated by a senior enchanter. I will release the rod to you once you have the signed form."

_Damnation! _

"I will be back shortly," Elias said with an innocent smile.

"Thank you," Owain answered her, and he turned back around and proceeded to ignore her.

_How am I supposed to get this damned thing signed without drawing attention to myself?_ The young mage wondered, glancing at the request form warily. Brooding, she wandered out of the stockroom and into the library, looking about covertly and taking note of her options. Many senior enchanters came to the library for quiet and solitude. It was her best chance, short of going to Irving and hoping he had temporarily taken leave of his senses and wouldn't ask too many questions.

Elias ducked behind a bookshelf, weighing her options. To her left was Senior Enchanter Torrin, a stern, opinionated man who had tutored her at lessons a time or two, and who was absolutely not an option. Besides being stern, he was also extremely intelligent, and she doubted that he would believe her for an instant.

In the middle of the room, back to her, was Duncan, and Elias quickly ducked down. It would not do for the Warden to notice her. She was unsure if she could retain her composure if he decided to question her.

About to give up in frustration, the young mage's eye fell upon at man near the back of the shelves, surely a senior enchanter by his age alone. Elias recognized him at once; Sweeny, the well-meaning old enchanter that the apprentices joked was alive when the Circle stones were piled one upon the other. Swallowing, grasping the request form so hard in her hand that she crinkled it, Elias hitched a smile onto her face and walked up to him. _This is my only chance_ she told herself. _Don't mess this up._

When he heard her approach, he turned around and fixed her with a kindly look, making her feel even guiltier.

"Oh, hello," he said, slightly surprised to at seeing someone interested in speaking with him. "I don't believe we've met. Are you new to the circle?"

_Am I new to the circle?_ _Seriously?_

"You might remember me as an apprentice," she answered, trying not to laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said with a good-natured chuckle. "There are so many of you, and I get confused. Not to mention these old eyes are starting to go."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Elias said, grinning.

"You're too kind. I'm old, and about to fall apart," he said, motioning toward his body. "Nothing in the world can fix that."

"You should rest more," the young mage told him warmly. "Not be in the library so much."

"But I enjoy the library," the enchanter protested. "These books, they're old friends of mine . . . and it's quiet. When you're my age, you'll appreciate the quiet." He paused and took a deep breath. "Anyway, did you need something?"

"You are a senior enchanter, are you not?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound deceitful or opportunistic.

"I suppose I am," he replied thoughtfully. "I've been here longer than just about anyone else."

Elias tentatively handed over the request form, which the old man took and looked over, eyes straining to read the crawling sprawl.

"What's this?" he asked himself absently. "A request form for the stockroom? Rod of fire . . . ?" The enchanter seemed to stare off into nothing for a moment, as if lost in thought. Elias waited with bated breath, afraid that she was caught right there. But when he began speaking again, it was with the same kind good humor that he had had all along.

"I remember when the junior mages I mentored asked for some of those. Turns out they were burning holes in each other's trousers! One boy burned peepholes into the female apprentice's dormitory!" At that he laughed long and hard, eyes twinkling, and Elias decided that she quite liked this man, and hoped fervently that he never became aware of what she was using this form for.

"You're not involved in any such rubbish, are you?" he asked suddenly, startling the girl. "No, of course you're not!" he answered himself, beaming. "Look at you. So angelic." Elias tentatively smiled, for once pleased that her round face and innocent eyes were serving her instead of hindering her.

"Well, I won't ask what you need it for," he told her. "Tower's too boring lately. Tell you what," he said, picking up a quill from the nearby table, "I'll put my name on this form . . . like so . . ."

Elias stared at him in shock, hardly daring to believe her good fortune.

" . . and if you get the chance, burn a big hole in the seat of the trousers of the templar that patrols the library," he finished, handing her the signed form. "Do that for old Sweeney, won't you? Bastard's always giving me the stink eye . . ."

"I'll see if I can manage that," Elias answered, grinning and feeling immensely horrible.

"You be on your way now," Enchanter Sweeney told her softly, and turned back to stare at the shelves.

"Thank you," she told the old man genuinely, and she left the library, form clutched to her chest.

Trying not to break into a run, Elias retraced her steps until she found herself once again in the stockroom, once again standing before Owain, and once again asking for an item that she knew she should not have.

"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items," Owain intoned again, voice as devoid of feeling as the last time. "My name is Owain, how may I assist you?"

_Does he say those exact same words every time to every person?_ Elias gritted her teeth, her resolve firmly set. If this was what Jowan would become, then she could think of no more noble end to her life as a mage than helping him escape from it.

"Here's the signed form for the rod of fire," she said shortly, handing him the parchment promptly.

Owain took the paper from her and looked it over quickly. "Everything looks to be in order," he informed her in his listless voice. He turned around and pulled from behind him a small, thin, cylindrical object the color of rusted silver, warm to the touch. "Here is the rod you requested," Owain said, handing it to her and turning away.

Elias stood there, waiting to be dismissed, but the man was as light on small talk as before, and within a few seconds she shrugged and left.

_And now it really begins._

Lily and Jowan were standing in the back of the chapel, waiting, both obviously nervous. _I should have told them to split up_, Elias thought to herself, annoyed. _They're much more conspicuous this way_.

She trotted up, heart beating in her chest at the thought of their next step and its consequences.

"I _hate_ waiting," Jowan told her vehemently as she walked up, running his hands through his dark hair. "It makes me nervous."

"I could tell," Elias told her friend with a grin. "I have the rod of fire."

"That was quick!" Jowan said, impressed.

"To the repository, then," Lily said, voice trembling, though whether from emotion or nerves Elias couldn't tell. "Freedom awaits."

They turned to stare at her then, side by side, and Elias realized with a sinking feeling that she had become their de-facto leader. She sighed to herself. It always seemed to happen this way. Truth be told, she had never liked being in charge of others, yet she always found herself there anyway. She wondered if the reason was that she disliked leading slightly less than those around her, but she wasn't sure. It had never bothered her much before. But today, with their task before them, she wished for once that it was Jowan telling her what to do, and that she wasn't responsible for a quest that would decide the outcome of her best friend's freedom.

And so, sighing for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours, she turned around and headed out of the chapel, down the stairs, and into harm's way.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So I wrote almost this entire thing two weeks ago on a Friday night. The next day I started Mass Effect 2, and that's where I was until I finally beat it, so apologies for going away for quite so long. Normally, I WILL be updating more often than once every two weeks. Unless Bioware has another game being released, in which case all bets are off for at least a month. Apologies. Also, the last bit of this was druuuuuudged out during a fit of extreme mental writer's block, so the last bit may or may not suck slightly more than the rest. I'll leave you all to decide that.

Thanks again to everyone sticking with me! All of your feedback is appreciated more than you know.

One last note: I intend from this point forward for the chapters to be much shorter. The origin was proving difficult for me to split up.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age. Not I, or my husband, or my kids, or my eight cats, and suing any of us would be silly. Although knock yourself out, it's fine, I didn't need that three dollars I have left in the bank, anyway.

Chapter 7

_All things in this world are finite._

_What one man gains, another has lost._

- Transfigurations 1:1-2

The trek downstairs was one of the most uncomfortable experiences that Elias had ever had. Convinced that at any moment the first enchanter and a host of templars were going to come screaming, lightning flashing, out of a side room and kill them all (which at any other time would have been an amusing thought) struck her at least five times before she and her companions finally reached the basement door. But they found their way unblocked, their path nearly empty of all passerby, and the band proceeded unhindered.

When they reached the bottommost exit, Elias ran forward to open it quickly before anyone could catch them. The door usually remained unlocked, but she doubted that they were allowed to be downstairs, in the strictest sense, and besides, it was best to avoid being seen for as long as possible.

When she touched the handle, the young mage was slightly surprised to find the metal almost warm to the touch, and apprehension seized her. _Powerful magics are kept behind this door . . . I knew this, but still, it bodes ill for us . . . _

Ignoring it for now, she shoved the door open and motioned for Lily and Jowan to follow her quickly inside. Once through, Jowan shut the door gently with a light thud and glanced behind him, alert for any sound of pursuit. After a few seconds, satisfied that they were indeed alone and would remain so for the time being, Elias turned her gaze from her friend to the small stone corridor they now found themselves in.

The basement entranceway where they were standing was structurally the same as the rest of the Tower, but was windowless and lit only by torchlight, held aloft by the imposing statues that were just as common on the upper floors. Here, however, the flickering flame gave the environment a cold, secluded, secret feeling, an apprehension in the air that coalesced in the blood and left one suspicious and fearful. Elias would be pleased to be rid of this place.

They followed the short hallway and hung a left, coming to stand before a large wooden door that looked different from the overall architecture of the Tower. Before she could try the handle, Lily spoke.

"The Chantry calls this entrance the Victim's Door," she said in a hushed voice, staring at the aging wood with a mixed expression. "It is built of 277 planks, one for each original templar. It is a reminder of the danger all those cursed with magic pose."

_Cursed?_ Elias couldn't help thinking, disgusted.

"How do you know this?" she asked, sounding slightly harsher than she meant to.

"Initiates must learn the Circle's history if they are to work with templars and mages," she answered shyly, smiling.

Elias felt slightly guilty. "Well, how do we get past it?" she asked in a friendlier voice.

"The doors can be opened only by a templar and a mage entering together," Lily explained. "The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with magic to release it."

"Since you have the password, can't Jowan help you enter?" Elias asked, confused.

"The ward only responds to the touch of one who has been through the Harrowing," Lily said somberly, avoiding her gaze.

_Of course it does._

Elias sighed and smiled. "I trust you have the password?"

"Yes. I got it from a templar who recently accompanied a mage into the vault."

"And he wasn't suspicious of you?" the young mage asked incredulously.

"We have chatted on many occasions," Lily reassured her gently. "I believe he trusts me."

"So what must I do?"

"First, the password," Lily whispered breathlessly.

She turned to face the wooden door, arm extended before her as if to perform magic. Standing in such a pose, it took Elias half a second to remember that the woman wasn't a mage and wouldn't be doing any such thing.

"Sword of the Maker, tears of the Fade," she uttered in her quiet voice.

Within or behind the door came an odd sound, as of magic grinding against itself, or of something unnatural releasing and dissipating. The noise was loud when compared with the low voices that had preceded it, and all three companions jumped when it sounded.

"What was that?" Elias asked, slightly worried.

"The password only primes the door," Lily reminded her hurriedly. "Now it must feel the touch of magic. Any spell will do, but hurry!" The initiate glanced behind her absently, checking for trouble.

Elias was unsure if she wanted to lob a spell at an ages-old door that had just groaned ominously at them, but it wasn't as if she had much of a choice, so she gritted her teeth, raised her arms, and sent one flying. The door sighed once more and, after several seconds, opened of its own accord. Wasting no time, all three of them rushed forward and into the next hallway, not bothering to shut it behind them; if anyone was going to pursue them, a closed door was not going to impede them.

Within twelve feet of the last entrance they came upon another door of the same size and shape, but made of thick metal and not nearly so old. All around its arch and smattered about its center were dull silver runes that the young mage did not recognize. Ignoring them and their possible consequences, Elias grabbed the handle and pulled, but was unsurprised to find it locked. _If it had been open,_ she thought, _why would I have needed the rod of fire?_

Before she could use it, however, Jowan interrupted her nervously.

"Do you have the rod with you? Melt the locks off!"

"Do I have—do I—of course I have it with me!" she thundered at him much more loudly than she intended, amused and annoyed simultaneously.

She sent Jowan a look telling him that he was an idiot and removed the rod from her robes, bringing it to bear on the door in front of them. The rod glowed brightly momentarily, sending a swath of energy outward and then quieting and returning to normal.

Elias, Jowan and Lily waited silently for several moments. After nearly a full minute had elapsed, Lily asked, sounding slightly panicky, "What's the matter? Why isn't it working?"

"I don't know," the young woman answered, turning to her friends, clearly confused. She tried the rod again, and once more it glowed briefly, seemed to whir to life, and then quieted and was still with no discernable difference to the door ahead of them.

Jowan reached out his hand impatiently, face drawn in concentration, but before Elias could tell him not to cast, he lowered his arms angrily and turned to his lover, worried.

"Lily, something's not right. I . . . can't cast spells here! Nothing works!"

The pretty young initiate turned back to the stone and ran her delicate hands over it, tracing the runes with her long fingers, eyes slightly unfocused, clearly lost in thought.

"These wards carved into the stone . . . this must be the templar's work!" she said suddenly, looking up and locking eyes with Elias. "They negate any magic cast within this area!" She spun back around and leaned her body against the solid rock, defeated. "I should have guessed! Why would Greagoir and Irving use simple keys for such a door? Because _magical_ keys don't work!"

_I seem to remember asking about this_, Elias thought to herself, but held her tongue.

"How do you keep mages away from something?" she asked no one in particular, smiling mirthlessly. "Make their powers completely worthless! That's it then," she concluded, slapping her hand against the door weakly. "We're finished. We can't get in."

Elias glanced behind her, feeling the first tendrils of anger begin to crawl up through the pit of her stomach and wend their way into her thoughts. _We are _not_ giving up. I will NOT let this happen to Jowan. Not to him._

She glanced around quickly, as if to find a way around their predicament, and noticed that to the left of the stone door ran a long, dimly lit hallway ending in another exit similar to the one before them now. _Could we really be so lucky . . . ?_

"There must be another entrance," Elias commented, eyes never leaving the archway to their right.

"You mean . . . through that door?" Lily asked, sounding dubious.

Jowan nodded quickly. "That door probably leads to another part of the repository." He ran a hand through his dark hair and asked, "What are the chances of their being another entrance?"

"Well, it's worth a try, and better than standing around here waiting for the templars to find us," Elias said, beginning to walk cautiously down the hallway.

"We can see where this door leads, but I don't think it will be easy," Lily reminded them, sounding slightly more hopeful. "It looks locked, for one."

"And it might be guarded," Elias muttered with a sigh.

"Then let's hope the Maker smiles on us," Lily told her, and the young mage knew that her companions were ready as they would ever be.

"Let's hurry," Jowan said, striding ahead of them quickly. "We've wasted enough time.

Elias had to agree, but was apprehensive at the thought of what obstacles were awaiting them. Surely a room filled with phylacteries would be guarded by more than spells and a locked door. She was surprised, now that she thought of it, that they had yet to meet anyone in this quiet basement hallway. Surely the knight commander had guards posted . . . ?

Wasting no time, acting before her nerves caught up with her, Elias once again withdrew the fire rod from under her robes, raised it, and pointed it at the door handle. Immediately an entirely different reaction from the one before occurred; blue flames leapt from her instrument onto the door, dashing wildly about before connecting with the locking mechanism and consuming it slowly, rendering it a steaming slab of melted metal. The door quivered pathetically once more and swung open.

The response was immediate; not from inside, but behind them. The trio whipped around, hearts beating in their chests, as the unmistakable sound of clanking armor was heard and a lone guard rushed into view, sword drawn and running straight at Lily, intent clear.

"Well, that's not good," Jowan said, eyes wide, drawing closer to the two women.

The guard raised his broadsword high and swung directly at Lily's head, but she ducked to the side easily and parried with her fist, striking the man full in the face, but doing almost no damage; in his heavy armor, it was more likely that Lily might have broken her hand. If she was in pain, however, she gave no sign.

The man turned to attack again, but Elias and Jowan caught him full force with the combined strength of their spells, knocking him back with an earth-shattering crash of metal on stone.

_How could I have missed him?_ Elias asked herself as the guard regained his poise and attacked Lily once again, this time narrowly missing her shoulder and connecting instead with the ground. _He must have been hiding in an alcove in the shadows, waiting to see what we would do. I must not be so careless. _

Though the three friends were all untrained in combat, the battle was not a long one; three on one are difficult odds for any man to beat, and even with Lily's blows doing little to hinder him, through Elias and Jowan's magic the guard was quickly dispatched. He fell to the ground within a few seconds, stomach down, and did not rise.

The young mage glanced down and her fallen foe guiltily, hoping that he wasn't dead. Despite the obviousness of the idea, she hadn't thought about the fact that she might have to kill to help free her friend. Would she be willing to take the life of another to achieve their goal? She was unsure. Pushing the thought aside, turning her eyes away from the man lying prone at her feet, Elias moved on, Jowan and Lily at her heels.

The corridor beyond the door continued in a straight line for several feet before angling off sharply to the left. The three companions followed it until it led to a short flight of weathered stone steps leading upward. They ascended quickly before noticing that at their top was an armed two-man guard, each clad in the same armor that the first man had been wearing. Elias, Jowan and Lily all froze and stared at the sentinels in surprise. The guards hesitated for a split second, surprised to find that anyone had penetrated this far without their knowledge, and then attacked, running forward and drawing their weapons.

Elias darted ahead of her friends, hoping to draw their opponent's notice. She knew that she couldn't hope to last long against two heavily armored warriors, but she liked it better than the idea of them making a beeline for her companions.

Throwing her hands forward, a cone of intense flame erupted in an arc in front of Elias, a blistering heat swelling to consume her adversaries. One guard, quicker than the other, threw himself to the side and avoided being burned. The second was not so lucky, and the blast hit him full-force. Had he not been arrayed from head to toe in thick metal armor, he would most certainly have died. Instead, the man went flying backward with a cry of pain, and the young mage turned her attention to the as yet unharmed sentry bearing down upon her.

Before she could get off another spell, however, Jowan intervened, striking the man in the face with his clenched fist and then hitting him in the abdomen with a well-aimed spell. Elias felt her mouth drop open. She had never seen her friend display any such prowess. _Then again_, she reminded herself as she hit one of their enemies with a bolt of energy, _we've never been in a situation like this one before today. And, Maker willing, we never will be again. _

Their only real handicap was that Lily was currently unarmed. Even so, the two guards were quelled with relative ease and minimal damage suffered by the trio, save a small gash on the back of Elias' shoulders she had received when she had dodged just a split second too late. It smarted, and she was fairly certain that it was bleeding, and that her brand new robes were torn in the back, but if that was the worst that happened to them, they had a lot to be thankful for.

The corridor they were travelling continued on in a straight line for several more yards, branching off at semi-regular intervals into small, study-like rooms that could be glimpsed through a series of barred doors that resembled those one would find in a jail cell. _What on earth were these used for?_ Elias wondered as they passed. At any other time, she would have given nearly anything for the chance to be down here with these musty tomes and crumbling parchments lit by candlelight. Now it was all she could do to keep from turning back, crawling into bed, and forgetting that any of this mess had ever happened.

Eventually the hallway ended in another short staircase and a closed door, unlocked, framed on either side by the same tall, imposing statues that had littered the rest of the underground passageway. Halting for a moment to catch her breath, Elias turned to Jowan and caught his eye. He stared at her and then nodded seriously, glancing toward the door, which she opened, prepared for more guards.

Nothing happened. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Elias moved forward into the room and was almost beheaded as another guard lunged for her with his short sword. She dodged, hit the man with a bolt of electricity to the stomach, and he collapsed and did not get up.

"Are you alright?" Jowan asked her and she stared at their fallen foe, shaken.

"Fine," she said breathlessly, heart hammering so fast that she was sure that the others must surely hear it. "Let's just move on."

The found themselves in a small store-room of sorts with a few assorted boxes and barrels lining the back wall, looking fairly dilapidated and forgotten. Mostly filled with junk, Elias replaced what was inside them before opening the door in front of her that would lead them further into the maze.

Several chambers later they were attacked by two guards and what could only be a spirit apparition, probably summoned to guard these rooms by a mage of the Circle. Elias noted that it was similar to the apparitions she had encountered in the Fade: iridescent, transparent vapor-like beings nevertheless capable of dealing lethal damage when they chose.

The fight was the hardest they had had to face, and by the time it ended, Elias knew that she would not be able to absorb the hits for her friends for very much longer. Her body ached, she was scratched or bruised in several different places, and a particularly deep cut on her lower leg was bleeding steadily and would probably not be staunched without magical aid. Sighing, she sat down and focused some of her remaining energy on her gash as Jowan knelt before her and spoke.

"You know, you're going to have to stop doing that," he informed her, exasperated.

"Stop doing what?" Elias asked, pretending not to know what he meant.

"You don't have to keep trying to protect us," Jowan said somberly. "We're not helpless, you know."

"Glad to hear it," she replied with a rebellious grin. "Next time, I intend to use you for a shield."

"Very funny," Jowan commented with an eye roll, helping his fellow mage to her feet, and they moved on.

Hurrying as quickly and carefully as they could, the trio still encountered their fair share of enemies: more guards awaited them at every turn, sometimes accompanied by a spirit ally as before, sometimes simply in larger numbers. Once they even stumbled into a library-like room filled with a strange creature that Elias had never seen before and couldn't even guess the name of. These small, vaguely reptilian creatures were vicious and there were many of them, but because of their size they were no true threat. Jowan received a nasty bite from the largest of the beasts, and muttered darkly that he hoped that it wasn't poisonous before stomping further off down the passageway. After perhaps half an hour their twisting and turning corridor ended in one door, identical to all the others. Elias opened it and gasped.

Inside was a cavernous room stuffed to bursting with what at first glance appeared to be junk, but on closer inspection was obviously every magical artifact that had ever been brought to Ferelden's Circle tower. Statues, tapestries, knickknacks, cauldrons, delicate golden instruments for reading the stars, and shelves upon shelves of books gleamed back at her under a thick layer of dust.

Despite their predicament, it was an awe-inspiring sight, and Elias could tell that Jowan agreed with her by the way he stumbled through the articles greedily, taking in every item with the same hungry curiosity that was burning inside of her.

As Jowan darted off to the far side of the room to more closely inspect the statue of a grisly three-headed monster that was sitting on one of the tables, Elias noticed an unlocked chest amidst the antiques. _Maybe there will be something in here that we could use_ she thought to herself as she popped the lid and peeked inside.

It was completely empty save for a dark, twisted staff that lay at the bottom. Extracting it, the young woman ran her fingers over it gently, impressed; it was a much better weapon than the one she had been given for completing her Harrowing. _Naturally, all the decent weapons that might help someone will be kept down here. _Not sure what else to do, she removed the staff that the first enchanter had given her and replaced it with the staff from the chest, satisfied.

"Elias, come over here and look at this," she heard Jowan say from the rear of the room.

Crossing the divide, she came to stand next to her friend, Lily by his side, and noticed what they were staring at; the stone statue of a man, taller than any of them, clad in mail and holding a spear, and she knew why Jowan had called her over. The air around it seemed to shimmer and swell ominously, as if the stone were absorbing some of the light and warmth around it.

"There's something off about that statue," Jowan said thoughtfully, still staring intently at it.

"Why would this be here?" Elias wondered aloud, slightly uncomfortable.

"How should I know?" Jowan asked her with a shrug. "It's magical. This is a room of magical obje—"

"Greetings," the statue interrupted, it's calm, ethereal voice reverberating throughout the gargantuan room.

"Maker's breath! Did it just say something?" Jowan yelled, jumping, his pitch raising an octave involuntarily.

"I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zernovia," the statue continued as if it had not been interrupted, "once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."

"Archon Velerius?" Elias questioned, ignoring the voice in her head telling her to ask the statue to stop talking.

"I'm not sure," Jowan said, thinking. "The Archons were the lords of the Tevinter Imperium."

"'Forever shall you stand on the thresholds of my proud fortress' he said," the statue intoned steadily, "and tell your lies to all who pass. But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies, and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust as I foretold."

"A _Tevinter statue_!" Lily said, clearly horrified. "Don't listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing."

"How did they do this?" Elias whispered, completely ignoring the other woman. She walked forward to place her hands on the statue, as if to give the woman within comfort. "Is she still alive?"

"Weep not for me, child," the statue answered her, its tone entirely unchanged. "Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again."

"Do you need any help?" Elias asked it, though she already knew the answer.

"No help can be given me," the statue told her passively. "This is my destiny, and my doom."

"Ambiguous nonsense," Jowan said, scowling. "Look, I can do it too: 'The sun darkens, but lo! Here comes the dawn . . . '"

"Stop talking to it! Please, both of you!" Lily pleaded, still scared.

Elias laughed despite herself. "Yes, we have much to do," she admitted, turning away from the talking stone with some regret.

"Come on Jowan," Lily said, sounding incredibly relieved. "Let's go."

Realizing that they were quickly running out of time, Elias turned around to inspect the walls more closely, hoping to find a way out of this room and nearer the repository when she nearly tripped over another statue, banging her injured leg painfully in the process.

"What do you think this does?" Jowan asked her innocently, a smile playing at the corners of his handsome mouth as he fought the urge to laugh at the young woman as she swore under her breath.

"Why does the Circle keep so many Tevinter artifacts in storage?" Lily asked, disapproving.

"It's history, Lily," Jowan explained with a roguish grin. "And it's fascinating."

"I can't imagine what this does, though," Elias said, glaring at the offending object.

"I've seen pictures of things like these! They amplify any spell cast into them!" Jowan said, sounding extremely excited. "I bet we could use this to break into the phylactery chamber."

It was a good idea, Elias mused, except for one problem: the statue was huge. While not particularly tall, this squat gargoyle-like sculpture had a wide base and was made of solid, heavy stone, which would make it nearly impossible to move, even with all three of them working together. It was not a viable option to drag it all the way back the way they had come to the phylactery chamber door.

"I doubt we could move it to the door," the young woman said, voicing her concern.

Jowan, however, seemed prepared for this reaction. "You see where the mortar is decaying behind that bookcase?" he asked, pointing ahead of them to a battered shelf of books standing directly before a decrepit old wall. "Let's take a closer look."

Without waiting for her, Jowan strolled up confidently and examined the bookshelf, glancing at it for several seconds before saying, satisfied, "It should be pretty easy to get this out of the way."

Elias stared at her friend for a few seconds, confused, before finally realizing that, in their route through these underground tunnels, they had come full-circle; if they could blast through this wall, they would be in the phylactery chamber at last, and one step closer to freedom.

She coughed slightly to cover her embarrassment. "You'll have to help me, then," she told Jowan, indicating the heavy, cumbersome bookcase.

"If we work together, we can shift it," he told her, unable to hide his enthusiasm. "Come on!" he said, already beginning to lift.

Elias crouched slightly, grabbed one of the shelves underneath in what she thought was a solid grip, and lifted upward. It was much heavier than it looked, and it was obvious that she and Jowan would not be picking the monstrous thing up as much as scooting it away from the wall as far as they could.

After a few minutes hard labor the shelf was at a respectable distance, and the two mages ran back to the gargoyle statue, adrenaline pumping. _So close, only the next room . . . _

"Use this with the rod," Jowan said breathlessly. "I'm sure it will work. Hurry!" he admonished when Elias hesitated, "the clock's ticking!"

She took out the rod of fire and pointed it at the statue, watching in a mixture of wonder and horror as the rod glowed for the final time and exploded into a shower of flame, a huge display, streaking toward the wall and shattering the fragile stone with an earth-shattering boom. If no one had known they were down here before, they sure did now.

"We must find Jowan's phylactery quickly!" Lily said as they rushed into the chamber and began to look around.

_A pity mine was already sent to Denerim_, Elias thought to herself. But now was not the time to dwell on what wasn't.

"Where would it be?" she asked

"With the other apprentice phylacteries, I'd imagine." Lily answered dryly.

_Well, ask a stupid question. _"Let's look around, then."

"It shouldn't be hard to find," Jowan said, running forward excitedly. "There aren't many phylacteries here."

Before they could move farther, however, Elias let out a scream and crumpled to the ground, a sword sticking out of her right shoulder. She cried again as the guard yanked it out, clutching her hand over the gaping wound to try and stop the gush of blood that was spilling out onto the ground. Jowan yelled and sent a spell soaring toward her attacker, who was propelled backward by the force of the blast and slammed into the wall. She guessed that he had probably cracked his skull, but the man regained his footing almost immediately and charged again.

Elias staggered to her feet and turned around; two more guards were running at them from outside, no doubt drawn by the explosion and the commotion they were making now. It was just a miracle that the templars hadn't arrived yet.

Wincing, Elias retreated, ignoring the fighting until she could summon the focus to heal her shoulder. The gash closed and ceased to bleed, but remained sore, and the mage knew that if she wasn't careful with it, it would definitely re-open. It would be difficult to fight with the injury, but not impossible.

Furious at having been surprised, she raised one arm and sent electricity sparking at every foe she could see, while Lily distracted them and Jowan rained down his righteous fury. Now that the element of surprise was spent, the three guards were no match for two furious mages, and the battle was over before reinforcements could arrive.

Once the guardians had been dealt with, Elias felt herself slump weakly across the wall until Jowan caught her, supporting half her weight in his strong arms, worry evident in his brown eyes.

Guiltily, she pushed him away slightly, shaking her head. "I'm fine," she said before he could ask. "Fine. I promise. Come on, we're almost there. We have to finish this. Hurry."

Limping slightly, Elias proceeded to the back of the room and to a wide stone staircase leading upward, clutching her shoulder painfully as she made her way to the top. Here there were several shelves of differing sizes, each holding between twenty and fifty vials of assorted sizes and shapes. She hoped Jowan knew instinctively which was his, because otherwise this was going to take an uncomfortably long time.

And sure enough, he did. Near the back of the alcove on the largest table he stopped, staring at one of the vials near the middle intently.

"That's my phylactery! We found it!" he said, holding it up to show Lily and Elias excitedly. "I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom . . ." His voice trailed off as the full implication of those words sunk in.

Elias watched as her best friend looked seriously on the one thing that had kept him captive his entire life. A shadow passed behind his eyes, as if every terrible memory, every slight, every injustice was called to his mind in the same moment.

"So fragile . . ." he whispered, holding the phylactery in front of his body. "So easy to be rid of it . . . to end its hold over me . . ."

Then he dropped it onto the hard ground, where it shattered into an innumerable number of tiny shards, blood splattering the stones and the legs of the table with its crimson droplets.

"And I am free," Jowan said, and Elias thought that nothing had ever felt quite as right to her as this moment.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Still shifting the chapter around. I've written another (one, two?) new chapters, and those'll be going up soon, so please bear with me!_

_Thanks to those that read and review!_

Chapter 8

Elias stared at the pool of blood on the floor, Jowan's blood, for several seconds before remembering that they were not out of the woods. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to get them out of the basement without running into a host of templars. She wouldn't be much of a match for them in her current state, so fighting their way out wasn't an option. One way or the other, they were out of time.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better," she told her companions, beginning to head back down the stairs.

"I do not want to stay here a moment longer," Lily said, as she followed the other woman down the stairs, sounding extremely tired. Elias knew how she felt.

"We can probably go out through the locked door instead of the way we came," Elias said as she reached the foot of the steps. "I doubt it's locked from this side."

"Good idea," Jowan said, quick on her heels.

Sure enough, when they tried the door from the other side, the wards guarding it were disengaged and they were able to pass unhindered. Elias picked up her pace. They were so close . . . so very close to freedom. If luck was with them, no one yet knew that they were downstairs, and they'd have at least a few minutes to return to the main floor and figure out a way of escaping the tower.

As they proceeded down the corridors at a run, heading for the first floor entrance, they met no one, and the upstairs seemed quiet. _I can't believe we really did it. _Reaching their exit at last, Elias threw open the door and ran forward into an empty room, and her heart soared. _Yes!_

"We did it!" Jowan said, voice raised in exaltation more than was probably wise. "I can't believe it! Thank you!" He rushed forward and grabbed Elias' shoulders, as if ready to scoop her into a hug, but releasing quickly when she winced, remembering her wounded right side. "We could never have—"

"So, what you said was true, Irving."

Elias heard the clanking of armor, and felt whatever strength was left in her body drain out of her as she watched the first enchanter approach with Knight-Commander Greagoir at his side, several templars in tow. There was no way out now. It would be impossible to fight the first enchanter and Knight-Commander simultaneously. They had reached the end.

_You must lie_, Elias' mind screamed. _You must lie, and lie well._

She stepped forward, placing her body subtly in front of Jowan and Lily. "First Enchanter, I assure you, this isn't what it looks like," she told them in a calm, reasonable voice, hoping to set the tone as much as possible.

"An initiate conspiring with a blood mage," Greigor said, completely ignoring Elias and strolling up to address Lily instead. "I'm disappointed in you."

Lily's eyes widened in shock, and Elias sent her a look desperately. _Don't believe it,_ her eyes screamed. _Jowan wouldn't do that . . . _

Greagoir seemed mildly satisfied about something. "She seems shocked," he said to Irving, indicating the look of distress on Lily's face. "But fully in control of her own mind . . . not a thrall of the blood mage, then . . ."

_Stop calling him that! _Elias' mind thundered at him, fury boiling through her and threatening to spill over.

"You were right, Irving," he admitted, turning back to the first enchanter. "The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished. And this one," he said in disgust, motioning to Elias with a finger. "Newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the circle!"

"I am . . . disappointed in you," Irving said, deep lines of sadness etching his weathered face, and Elias felt extremely guilty. "You could have told me what you knew of this plan, and you didn't."

"You don't care for the mages!" Jowan shouted at him angrily. "You just bow to the Chantry's every whim!"

"Jowan, please don't make it worse," she whispered to her friend out of the corner of her mouth, as quietly as she could.

"Enough!" Greagoir said loudly, and the young mage fell silent. "As Knight-Commander of the templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death."

_Like hell you will!_ Elias nearly screamed, but Greagoir was not finished.

"And this _initiate_, he said, turning to Lily with contempt, "has scorned the Maker, and her vows. Take her to Aeonar."

Lily's creamy complexion paled to a deathly pallor, and she took a step back involuntarily as two templars came forward to seize her. "Th—the mages' prison?" she asked, horrified. "No, please! No, not there—"

"No!" Jowan thundered, pulling a dagger that Elias had never before seen out of his robes and holding it before him. "I won't let you touch her!" And without warning, he plunged it deep into his left hand.

A spray of blood erupted from the wound and quivered in midair. Jowan's face contorted with fury as the crimson flow ceased its movement, hovering ominously, and then unleashed itself, swirling around the young man like an angry whirlpool before erupting outward at Jowan's command.

The blood struck the two templars that had stepped forward to apprehend Lily, and their bodies fell to the floor with a loud crash as the wave moved on to consume the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. Greagoir made to draw his sword, but too late; the blood magic surged over and passed him, and the proud man crumpled to the ground and did not move.

Silence reigned. Elias turned in a dull haze to try and understand what was happening. Greagoir, Irving, the templars . . . they were all lying prone at Jowan's feet, though whether dead or simply unconscious was unclear. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. She had fallen asleep, and some twisted, angry, irrational, fearful part of her mind had conjured this up in the wake of her Harrowing. The Jowan she knew wouldn't do this. In the stifling stillness, Elias was afraid she was going to be sick

Jowan turned to Lily and opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off.

"By the _Maker!_" she whispered, aghast. "Blood magic! How _could_ you? You said you never—"

"I admit, I-I dabbled!" Jowan cut her off, trying to make her understand. "I thought it would make me a better mage!"

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan," Lily said softly, now beginning to back away, eyes locked on her lover. "It corrupts people, changes them."

"I'm going to give it up!" Jowan said desperately, taking a step toward her, voice breaking. "All magic! I just want to be with you, Lily! Please, come with me!"

"I trusted you," she answered him severely, a strange calm having settled over her. "I was ready to sacrifice everything for you . . ."

A single tear fell unbidden from her bright eyes and rolled down her alabaster cheek as she fixed Jowan with a hard stare. "I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me."

For several painful heartbeats, Jowan stared at Lily, anguished, rooted to the spot, unable or unwilling to move or say anything more in his own defense. And then he was gone, sprinting away down the hall as fast as Elias had ever seen him run.

_Don't! _She tried to scream, but her voice wouldn't obey her. _Don't leave! You have to stay here and explain how this is all a huge mistake! You have to make me understand!_

But it wasn't a mistake, and she knew it. Jowan was a blood mage. Truth be told, she had probably known on some level that Irving's accusations were true. Greagoir might be willing to make an apprentice Tranquil on a mere rumor, but the First Enchanter, as frustrating as it sometimes was to watch him bow knee to the Chantry, was a fair man, a just man, and he never would have allowed such a thing to happen.

And now Jowan was gone, and he wasn't coming back. His phylactery was destroyed, so he would be harder to track, but the templars were relentless, and they would catch him eventually. And when they did, they would kill him.

Elias stood paralyzed for several minutes, eyes never leaving the spot from which Jowan had just departed. What would happen to her now? She neither knew nor cared. She had aided a blood mage's escape, and they would not go easy on her for such an offense.

Eventually Irving began to stir, groaning as if in pain and attempting to rise off the hard stone. Bending to help, Elias clasped the old man gently by his shoulders and helped him to his feet, letting him use her for balance and supporting most of his weight.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, voice raspy. Elias nodded listlessly, staring at the ground and refusing to meet his eyes. "Where's Greagoir?"

"I knew it!" Greagoir grunted, getting to his feet with much more grace than Irving and staring about him in fury. "Blood magic! But to overcome so many . . . I didn't think he was capable of such power."

The others in the room were now beginning to waken, moaning in pain and hoisting themselves up off the ground slowly, armor clanking dully.

"Jowan _promised_ me he wasn't a blood mage!" Elias said to herself, trying desperately to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

"None of us expected this," Irving told her gently. Brushing himself off, he turned to his colleague. "Are you alright, Greagoir?"

The Knight-Commander was pacing, clearly in a rage and unsure of who to unleash it on first. "As good as can be expected, given the circumstances!" he snapped, nearly kicking the wall in his consternation. "If _you_ had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose, and no way to track him down!"

"Yes, Jowan destroyed his phylactery," Elias said to him without emotion, staring at a spot slightly above his right shoulder.

"Where is the girl?" Greagoir asked, ignoring her.

"I . . . I am here, sir," Lily answered from the back of the room, stepping forward slightly so that the templar could perceive her more easily.

"You helped a _blood mage!_" Greagoir spat. He gestured at the others around the room, some of whom were still picking themselves off the floor with some difficulty. "Look at all he's hurt!"

"She didn't know Jowan was a blood mage," Elias told him, knowing that she was pushing her luck but unable to care.

"You've been a friend," Lily piped up, stopping her from saying any more, "but you needn't defend me any longer." Swallowing hard, Lily walked forward to stand before her judge, jury and executioner without flinching. "Knight-Commander, I . . . I was wrong. I was accomplice to a . . . blood mage." She said this last with difficulty, as though forcing her lips to form such words about Jowan was almost physically impossible for her. "I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even . . . " her voice trailed off momentarily."Even Aoenar," she finished.

"Get her out of my sight!" Greagoir barked, and two of the templar guards once again came forward to seize Lily. Having nothing to impede them this time, each of them grasped her just above the elbow and proceeded to escort her away. As she passed, Elias tried to catch her eye, tried to offer the broken woman some reassurance, but Lily purposely avoided her eyes, and by the time the young mage had worked out the words she wanted to say, the older woman was gone.

"And _you_" Greagoir said in disgust, turning to Elias and brandishing his finger at her angrily. "You know why the repository exists! Some artifacts, some _magics_ are locked away for a reason!"

"Did you take anything important from the repository?" Irving asked her, his tone much calmer and more reassuring than the angry templar's.

"Yes, this staff," Elias admitted, tone flat as she took the weapon from its strap on her back and held it out for the first enchanter. "You can have it back, if you like."

"Well, finally, some honesty," Greagoir said with a snort, looking down his nose at her. "But your antics have made a mockery of this circle. Ugh, what are we to do with you?"

"I had no idea he was a blood mage," Elias whispered, barely able to keep herself from weeping, knowing that it would not matter.

"And you think this _excuses_ you?" the Knight-Commander asked her, continuing his tirade. "You _helped a blood mage escape!_ All our preventative measures for naught, because of you!"

"Knight-commander, if I may," came a familiar voice from the door.

Elias turned, surprised, as Duncan walked into the room, taking quick, long strides to reach their small party standing near the back. He moved with grace and confidence, gaze locked on Greagoir, and the young woman could not for the life of her figure why he was present, nor why he would be monitoring the situation from the hallway beyond.

"I'm not only looking for mages to join the king's army; I'm also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks."

_He can't mean that_ Elias said to herself, dazed, sure that this was just the latest development in a cruel dream that the Fade was visiting upon her, a dream from which she was having trouble awakening. _Leave the circle? Become a . . . a Grey Warden? _

Greagoir's face turned from red to purple in his rage, but before he could begin shrieking, Irving addressed the Warden solemnly.

"Duncan, this mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a lack of regard for the Circle's rules-"

"She is a danger!" the templar stated, refusing to be silenced even for a second. "To all of us!"

"It is a rare person who risks all for a friend in need," Duncan said kindly, shifting his gaze to Elias and nodding at her politely. "I stand by my decision; I will recruit this mage."

"_No!_" Greagoir nearly screamed. "I _refuse_ to let this go unpunished!"

"Greagoir is right," Elias heard herself agree as if from very far away. "I will stay here and face the consequences of my actions."

"Humph. Perhaps not all of our lessons have been lost. She knows her place," the Knight-Commander commented, for the first time Elias could ever remember sounding approving.

"Don't be a fool," Duncan said, turning to face her, serious. "You have assisted a maleficar. You must know what awaits you in the Circle."

"But I have done nothing wrong," Elias insisted, feeling the first seeds of anger growing within her. She quashed them, knowing how dangerous they could be for her at a time like this.

"You may think so," Duncan told her with a sad half-smile. "But others feel otherwise."

"What's he doing?" Greagoir demanded angrily. "Stop him!" he added, but no one came forward to assist him, confused as to what was actually happening.

"You know Duncan can invoke the Rite of Conscription if he wishes," Irving said to his colleague, sounding very slightly relieved. "We must comply."

"The rite of what?" Elias asked, glancing around confused.

"If the Grey Wardens wish to conscript someone, neither lord nor king can deny them," Irving told her.

"What about my punishment?" the young woman asked. It was simply impossible that she would be allowed to just leave the Circle and live on the outside after what she had just done. The world just didn't work that way. Not for a mage.

"Greagoir, mages are needed," Duncan said, trying to appeal to the man. Elias could have told him he might was well try to teach magic to dwarves, but hadn't asked her opinion, so she remained silent.

"_This _mage is needed!" he continued, gesturing to her. "Worse things plague this world than blood mages, you know that. I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions."

"A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only unpunished, but is rewarded by becoming a Grey Warden!" Greagoir uttered, nearly beside himself. "Are our rules nothing? Have we lost all authority over our mages? This does not bode well, Irving."

"Enough," the First Enchanter said, holding up both hands for silence. "We have no more say in this matter.

Elias could barely believe what she was hearing. Less than two days ago she had been an apprentice studying her art beside her best friend and dreaming of a life outside these walls. Now she was nearly an outlaw, the templars were searching for Jowan with the intent of ending his life, and she was leaving the Circle, possibly never to return, and joining the ranks of the famous Grey Wardens, the order for whom even kings bended knee.

"So I am to be a Grey Warden?" she said, almost to herself, as if needing to say it aloud to begin believing it.

"Yes," Irving answered her, smiling sadly. "Be proud, child; you are luckier than you know."

The young woman turned to face Irving, resisting the temptation to take his hand or to put her arms around him. For all his flaws, the First Enchanter was the closest thing to a father that any of the young mages had, and it was hard to leave the tower on such a note. Everything that had happened to her in the last twelve hours was threatening to overwhelm her, and Elias knew that she had to leave the room as quickly as possible if she was to hold herself together. Her mind had reached its saturation point.

"Thank you, First Enchanter," she said, swallowing hard and attempting to smile. "For everything."

"Come," Duncan said kindly to Elias, gesturing toward the exit and smiling. "Your new life awaits."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Still re-doing the chapters, so this is a short one.

Disclaimer: Pretty sure I still don't own Dragon Age.

Chapter 9

_Blessed are they who stand before_

_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. _

-Canticle of Benedictions 4:10

Elias clutched her travelling cloak tightly around her small frame, hunched close to the small fire and trying to keep from shivering. She allowed her body to relax, her eyes unfocused, her mind wandering aimlessly as she fought off the inevitable onslaught of memories of the last week that threatened to overwhelm her since departing the Circle Tower. _Kinloch Hold_ she reminded herself with a start. She knew that this was the Circle tower's proper name, though whether people who lived outside of its walls referred to it as such was unknown to her.

Their trek from Kinloch Hold to Andraste-only-knew-where-they-were-now had taken the rest of the week and half of the next. One day bled into the next, as Elias and her new Commander rode and walked in near total silence. Whether out of kindness or habit Duncan almost never spoke to her, for which Elias was grateful. More than once she found herself unable to speak for the pain and rage that welled within her, and often the young mage awoke in the night with tears streaking her face, though when she attempted to remember her troubled dreams she never could. If her taciturn guide noticed her weeping, he kindly didn't mention it.

The first evening, unaccustomed to such rigorous exercise, Elias had marched beside the older man until she thought every muscle in her would slough off her body, screaming in protest. When Duncan finally announced that they would be setting up camp a couple hours after dusk, Elias nearly laughed with relief. She could never remember walking for so long in her entire life; before then, her existence had been taken up with study and little more. She was unaccustomed to being used so rigerously.

Leaving the Circle had not taken any time, but it had been painful. She had taken nothing with her save the robes she was wearing and the gifts that the first enchanter had given to her upon completing her Harrowing. There were no belongings to fetch, and no one to say farewell to; with Jowan gone, and due to the part she had played in his escape, Elias was sure that she would not be returning, and she doubted she would be missed. She had never been particularly popular or adept at making friends, and for the first time in her life, she was glad of it.

For the most part, she was numb; as far back as she could recall her sole aim had been to do something so spectacular that the templars and the circle would have to let her leave and live in the real world. She may not be free, but at least she would not be caged. And now Elias had gotten her wish, and it wasn't at all as she had pictured it.

_I am to be a Grey Warden_ her mind repeated over and over, unable to fully grasp the idea. The Wardens were legendary heroes respected in nearly every culture and country in Thedas. Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and kings; they had nearly single-handedly turned the tide of the First Blight and saved all of Thedas and countless lives. To be counted among their number was an honor that seemed to be something out of a dream.

If only Jowan were here to see it.

A soft breeze blew over the pensive young mage as she sat, lost in thought. Elias clutched the thick cloak Duncan had given her even more tightly, feeling goose pimples erupt on her arms and legs in protest to the cold.

Every once in awhile, Elias would turn and chance a glance toward her companion, extremely curious about the dark, taciturn man who had swooped in and rescued her from punishment with hardly an explanation. She never caught him directly looking toward her, but she still knew that he was watching her, though for what was anyone's guess.

By the fourth day Elias found herself trying her hand at speaking to her only companion, if only to avoid the noise of her own thoughts. So far Duncan had proven to be kind, but distant. He would answer nearly any question she asked readily, but never with more than a syllable or two, and not once had he initiated a conversation. Elias didn't mind. Most of the time the weight of what she and Jowan had done was the only thing her mind was capable of dealing with. She knew that the only time she would have to come to terms with everything that had happened to her would be now, before they reached the Kings Camp at Ostagar, and she knew she would need it.

Sighing to herself, Elias turned to Duncan, knowing that she was now openly staring at him but ceasing to care much. If he wanted to address her he would, and if not, well, then he wouldn't.

He sat alert, as always, facing the fire but not distracted by it, and Elias wondered why he didn't attempt to sleep. As far as she knew, there were no darkspawn for miles, and from what she had read, none were intelligent enough to follow the man all the way to Kinloch Hold and back again. What was he afraid of? Bandits on the road?

Deciding suddenly that she was tired of silence and keeping to her own company, Elias cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak, hopefully in a way that would be difficult to politely ignore.

"I . . . I wanted to thank you," she began, surpirsed but pleased by how strong and sure her voice sounded. "You didn't have to step in for me. Not after I . . . I fear you didn't exactly see me at my best," she finished lamely, averting her eyes and gazing again at the fire.

Duncan nodded to himself silently. The duo sat without speaking once more, listening to the pop and crackle of the wood burning before Elias spoke up again, this time much more shyly.

"Um, why _did_ you recruit me?"

"I did not recruit you," Duncan reminded her with a half-smile, turning the wood over with a long stick so if would burn more evenly. "I _conscripted _you. And I have told you my reason; the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are far too few. Even with reinforcements coming from Orlais, we do not have the numbers at present to drive back the darkspawn. A mage of your skill will be exceptionally useful in the coming days."

"A whole Tower full of mages and you choose one who is untested in combat? One with such poor judgement? Don't these things matter to the Wardens?" Elias asked him with a melancholy smile, staring off into the distance and trying not to sound bitter.

Duncan hesitated for several seconds, as though trying to decide exactly how to respond to her.

"The Grey Wardens value wise judgement, it is true," he responded kindly. "As well as courage, vigilance, and self-sacrafice. You were ready to sacrafice your own future to ensure your friend knew happiness and freedom. You trusted him, and he betrayed you. But one cannot be expected to see all ends, Elias."

She continued to stare at Duncan for several seconds more, grateful beyond her ability to express for some measure of understanding. Elias could easily see why this man was Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. The young woman could not remember the last time someone had spoken to her with such kindness when they hadn't been a mage themselves, and Duncan spoke to her almost as an equeal. For the first time since loosing Jowan, Elias felt like a small portion of the weight she had been carrying had been lifted from her shoulders.

The Warden prodded the fire again and smiled at her. "You sometimes remind me very much of a friend I had, many years ago."

Elias returned the older man's smile with a grin of her own. "What was her name?" she asked him curiously.

Duncan's smile faded slightly, and he returned his gaze to the flickering flame of their campfire, steadfastly silent. Feeling slightly guilty, Elias changed the subject.

"So, where exactly are we headed? You said that the King's Army was gathering for battle. I assume this is where we are travelling to with such haste?"

"We have been travelling south, through the Hinterlands," he told her without missing a beat. "If we continue at a decent pace, we should reach the ruins of Ostagar, near the edges of the Korcari Wilds, before noon tomorrow."

Duncan stood up as if to stretch his legs and began to pace, and Elias could see what these few hours of rest were costing him mentally. "The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It is . . . fitting that we will make our stand there, even if we face a different foe within that forest."

"How long before the battle?" the young mage asked, feeling the first hint of fear creep into her mind.

"The King's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times already," he explained to her, fingering the hilt of his sword absently as he spoke. "But Ostagar is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. We have perhaps two days, at most."

The Warden started and glanced up at her, almost as if surprised to see her sitting across from him, enrapt. He shook his head and sighed heavily.

"But enough of such talk," Duncan said, rubbing his brow. "We will have plenty of time to discuss this tomorrow. I suggest you try and get some sleep. You will certainly need it."

Elias nodded and did as she was instructed, wrapping her body as best she could in her new wollen cloak and settling her weary body down on her bedroll, placed as close to the fire as possible without actually sitting on top of it. Certain that there was too much for her mind to think about, sure that she was going to be cursed with sleeplessness this night, her weary body overcame her objections, and she was asleep within seconds.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Duncan woke her before dawn the next morning. Elias sat up and broke her fast on hard, day-old bread and dried meat before hoisting her aching body up and helping her Warden companion break camp. They were on the road again as the sun shimmered over the horizon and greeted them with its cheerful cherry rays. The young mage silently cursed them and told them to keep their good mood to themselves.

They traveled without speaking for several hours, which suited Elias just fine, as her foremost concern was putting one foot in front of the other. Her legs were sore and tired from a week's traveling, but even so, she knew it wouldn't look good for her to trip on an exposed root or fall headlong into a tree, despite how nice it might be to remain unconscious for a little while. Duncan was patient with her when she lagged behind, and as they drew closer and closer to their destination, Elias became more and more comfortable with the idea of this man leading her into battle.

They reached Ostagar around midday, just as Duncan had predicted. He hadn't been exaggerating; Ostagar was definitely a ruin in the most literal sense of the word. What had once probably been a proud, strong outpost of impenetrable stone was now a broken-down mess of cracked, moss-covered boulders and wind-weathered walls. The parts that were still standing appeared to offer some, if not complete, shelter from the elements, and one building, a tower in the distance a good deal smaller than the Circle tower, appeared to be entirely intact.

From this distance, Elias could see that nearly the entire space inside the ruins was packed with people, running to and fro about their business. Tents of varying sizes were pitched so close together that a single body could barely fit between them; numerous campfires littered the landscape, some still smoldering but most recently extinguished, sending the last remnants of their smoke trails curling skyward and away into the sunshine.

As they drew nearer, the young mage began to catch snippets of sound: men calling to one another, the clank of metal, the howling of war hounds as they anticipated their next meal or paced their kennels in boredom. Elias felt her breath catch as they neared the great wooden gates that separated the ruins from the rest of the world; she had never seen so many people before.

Two guards clad in grimy silver armor stood watch at the entrance, milling about and looking somewhat bored. When they approached, the young woman expected to be stopped, but both merely nodded deferentially when she and Duncan passed, allowing them through without question. Elias was impressed. _Apparently they recognize him_, she thought to herself, feeling slightly dizzy with nerves.

"So . . . are there other Wardens here?" Elias asked Duncan, trying to keep her mind off of all the overwhelming sights and sounds that were assailing her senses and making her giddy.

"There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment," Duncan responded, walking purposefully through the heart of tents and soldiers, "but all of them are here."

"Not too many other concerns that outweigh this one at the moment, I take it?"

"This Blight _must_ be stopped, here and now," Duncan told her heavily, making Elias feel slightly guilty for making light of the situation. "If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."

"Ho there, Duncan!"

Duncan stopped short as a young man clad in shining plate mail sprinted up to him, grinning madly and accompanied by several others, all looking slightly less enthusiastic. Their leader was tall, blonde, and handsome: straight shoulder-length hair fell down gracefully around his angular, masculine face. Stubble littered his chin, but instead of making him look haggard, it only seemed to add to his allure. His stately armor was an attractive golden color, probably costing more than most people could earn in a year and, despite being rather bulky, it did not at all hide the fact that the young man was fit and muscular. The mage did not doubt for a second that he was capable of picking her up with one arm and throwing her over his shoulder without missing a beat.

Smiling, her companion stepped forward to clasp hands warmly with the younger man. "King Cailan! I didn't expect a—"

"A royal welcome?" the King asked, smiling roguishly. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

Elias managed to restrain herself from gaping in shock, eyes bugging from their sockets as if she were choking. _He's the King!_ Her mind screamed, flabbergasted. _I'm outside of the Circle tower barely a week and I meet the King! _

"Not if can help it, your majesty," Duncan was responding, smirking.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side after all. _Glorious_," the King said, immensely pleased as he turned to glance about him at the hustle and bustle of his army.

And now the man turned and his glance fell on Elias. The young mage gazed back steadily, taking several calming breaths in what she hoped was an offhand way. "The other Wardens told me you had found a promising new recruit," Cailan said, nodding toward Elias. "I take it this is she?"

"Allow me to introduce you, your majesty—" Duncan began, but King Cailan interrupted him once more.

"There's no need to be so formal, Duncan," he said with a shake of his head. "We'll be shedding blood together, after all." He closed the small gap between himself and Elias and gave her another of his winning smiles. "Ho there, friend. Might I know your name?"

She returned his smile, hoping she appeared deferential but warm. "I am Elias, your majesty."

"Pleased to meet you. The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers," he mentioned with an approving glance in Duncan's direction. "And I, for one, am glad to help them.

Cailan ran one gauntleted hand through his blonde locks and continued. "I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?"

"I will do my best, your majesty," Elias promised him, unsure how to answer without sounding either weak or arrogant.

"Excellent," the King said enthusiastically. "We have too few mages here. Another is always welcome. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

"You are too kind, your majesty."

"I'm sorry to cut this short," the young king said, glancing between Duncan and Elias regretfully, "but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies." He rolled his eyes skyward, and Elias stopped herself from laughing at the last moment.

"Your uncle sends his greeting, and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week," Duncan told the King suddenly, sounding as if this were a point that the two men had exchanged words about before.

"Hah!" Cailan scoffed with a chuckle. "Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters, and tomorrow should be no different."

"I didn't realize things were going so well," Elias voiced, hoping that she wasn't being rude by speaking out of turn.

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," Cailan said, frowning. "There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an Archdemon."

"Disappointed, your majesty?" Duncan asked, mildly amused.

"I had hoped for a war like in the tales!" Cailan answered, his face lit with boyish enthusiasm. "A King riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted God . . .! But I suppose this will have to do . . ."

King Cailan walked several paces forward, and then turned around to address them a final time before taking his leave. "But I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

Elias and Duncan stood and watched him go, shoulders squared and hair wafting in the cool breeze, and the young mage felt very much like this man _was_ a hero out of legend. Handsome, kind, and charming, he had ensured that the lonely young woman would love him and fight for him in only one conversation. And it was quite possible that he had done it entirely on accident.

"What the King said is true," Duncan told her as soon as the King was out of earshot. "They've won several battles against the darkspawn here."

"Yet you don't sound very reassured," Elias pointed out with a half-smile.

Duncan gestured politely to their right, indicating that the young woman should begin walking down the path the King had just vacated. Elias inclined her head in thanks and began to walk, keeping her pace measured to match the other Warden's.

"Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day," Duncan told her as they walked along, Elias focusing on the older man's face instead of all the sights and sounds her wandering mind was crying out for her to pay attention to. "By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an Archdemon behind it. But I cannot ask the King to act solely on my judgement."

"Why not?" Elias asked, unaware how innocent she sounded. "He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly."

"Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais," Duncan reminded her. "He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can, and look to Teryn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end," he said, giving the girl a significant look, "we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."

_Joining ritual_? Elias mind repeated in surprise and alarm. _What ritual? Why didn't he ever mention this before?_

"What do you mean? What ritual?" she asked, deciding that she trusted the Warden enough to voice a bit of her apprehension.

"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call 'The Joining' in order to become a Grey Warden. The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon."

_Wonderful_. "What do you . . . need me to do?" Elias asked, hoping she didn't sound as apprehensive as she felt.

"Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being." The young woman nodded, trying not to smile. She was a mage, and obviously so; she had a sneaking suspicion that if she tried to leave, someone would decide that she was an apostate and haul her back, bound and gagged.

"There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair," Duncan continued as Elias drove the dark thoughts she had been entertaining out of her head. "When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business I must attend to."

They stopped walking and stood at the end of a bridge splitting the ruins in two and stretching out over the steep cliffs that held Ostagar above oblivion. Unlike the rest of the crumbling stone she had encountered, Elias noted that the bridge seemed entirely sturdy, massive and ancient and strong as the very mountains they were no doubt hewn from. It was wide, large enough to accommodate five men walking abreast easily, and in some even wider places, right now occupied by the odd guard here and there, that number could easily reach seven or eight. Statues upward of ten feet high were placed every few yards along its expanse, usually a regal male figure holding a spear and looking off wonderingly into the distance. Banners on long thin poles whipped through the air violently, their bright colors flashing in the weak spring sunshine.

"You may find me at the Grey Warden camp at the other end of this bridge, should you need to," Duncan informed her, gesturing to the very same monument that she had been admiring seconds before. Elias bowed and smiled at him, slightly taken aback that she was allowed to wander about unsupervised for the first time in her life, but not particularly keen to point this out and risk the older man thinking better of it. The Warden nodded slightly in return and departed, walking down the overpass without looking back, already intent on his next order of business.

She watched him go absently for several seconds until she remembered that he had given her a task to complete. _Oh hell!_ She thought to herself. _Who was I supposed to find? _

Not wanting to appear to be following her superior about, Elias turned around and headed back they way they had come, letting her tired feet wander over the broken stone and through the ankle-high grasses that were beginning to obscure the structure of the fort. After several minutes, however, she grew bored; the rest of the camp was off over the bridge near Duncan, and save the local flora and fauna inhabiting the ruin, and the one or two bored sentries that were placed along its high walls, there was nothing to see on this side of Ostagar. Only the tower that she had seen earlier was of interest, but this was being watched over by one very alert guard, and Elias was too shy to speak with him.

So she walked purposefully back to the bridge and crossed, stopping for just a moment to enjoy the view and then continuing onward. Truth be told, the height made her dizzy, and the young woman was much more interested in seeing the people and bustling of the King's Army.

Several feet from the other side Elias stopped cold and stared in horror at the huge, crescent-shaped hole in the side of the expanse she was travelling. _Wherever I am in the coming battle, Maker help me if it's here!_ The mental image of running about firing off spells and then falling right through a hole in the floor was quite strong.

To keep her mind off the idea of her petite body smashing against the mountainside below, the young mage wracked her brain trying to remember the name of the Warden she was supposed to be finding. _Alaric? Ainsley?_

"Hail! You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought."

Startled, the young woman glanced up at the source of the voice to find the guard stationed at the end of the bridge waiting politely for her to respond.

"Oh . . . greetings," she offered, unsure of what to say.

"This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'd wager," the man said amicably, nodding behind him toward the rest of the camp. "Need any help getting anywhere?"

"Yes, thank you, "Elias said gratefully with a smile. "I'm looking for a Grey Warden named . . ."

_Ackley? Amsden? Alistair? Alistair!_

". . . Alistair," she finished, with only a second's delay.

"Try heading north," the guard responded, gesturing behind him. "I think he was sent with a message to the mages."

"Thank you, again," the mage said gratefully. "I'll be on my way."

"Good luck to you, then."

Elias continued on her way. Here, the ruin was much more solid, the crumbling of the walls not yet complete, still offering some shelter and cover should the camp be invaded. Instead of taking the guard's advice and heading to the north, she instead allowed herself to wander south; she saw to her right an encampment of mages and their templar guardians busy about their work, and made sure to give them a wide berth. _I am a Warden now_, she told herself firmly as she walked away, _that part of my life is over_.

Thankfully, there was plenty else to take in. She was in a roughly circular space, the middle of which was dominated by a large, two-tiered wooden platform with a set of steps at one end. A young woman in chantry robes was currently atop it, making some sort of speech that Elias tuned out automatically, but which the half-dozen men surrounding its base were listening to with rapt attention. She wandered among them for a short time, pretending to pay attention, before moving along and heading for the kennels.

The kennels, housing the King's war dogs, was easily distinguished by its smell alone. Having only seen a dog once or twice before, Elias wandered over curiously, in no hurry to finish her task. _Duncan _did_ tell me that I could go and find what's-his-name when I was ready . . . I'm just . . . not ready yet!_

As she approached, a dark-skinned man in light armor stood up, rubbing his hands worriedly and mumbling to himself.

"Hmmm, this isn't good," he said to no one in particular. "I'd hate to waste such a promising member of the breed . . ."

Elias was just about to slink off quietly when he turned, spotted her, and walked up, appearing slightly rushed and irritated.

"Are you the new Warden? I could use some help," he said without pretext.

"What's the problem?" the mage asked, ignoring the irony of procrastinating one task to accept a new one.

"This is a mabari. Smart breed, and strong," the man said with some warmth. "His owner died in the last battle, and the poor hound swallowed darkspawn blood. I have medicine that might help, but I need him muzzled first."

_He can't be suggesting what I think he's suggesting_.

"Why do you think I could muzzle him?" Elias asked incredulously. If the dog handler couldn't manage it, what would her tiny inexperienced arms do except get torn off?

"You're a Grey Warden," he answered, as if this were all the explanation anyone needed. "Or soon will be. All Wardens are immune to the darkspawn taint. The most you have to worry about are some tooth marks."

"I'll give it a shot," Elias told him with a confidence she didn't feel.

"Go in the pen and let him smell you," the older man instructed, turning around and brushing back a dark strand of hair distractedly. "We'll know right away if he'll respond. I hope this works," he added as he opened the wooden door that led to the kennel to let Elias pass. "I'd really hate to have to put him down."

The young mage exhaled nervously and walked inside slowly, keeping her hands at her sides and her eyes locked on the injured hound.

When it saw her approach, the wounded animal rose off its haunches and locked eyes with her. She glanced back respectfully, attempting to smile and hoping that the mutt was smart enough to understand that this was a friendly gesture.

He stared up at her respectfully and backed down from the aggressive stance he had adopted the moment before. Elias could see that he was, indeed, very intelligent, and also, as the handler had warned her, very sick. _He's huge, and beautiful, and in a great deal of pain_ her mind said in sympathy.

The young woman moved forward and crouched low, aware that if the dog chose to lunge at her now that it could easily tear her entire face off. Stretching out her arms to muzzle him, the mabari growled weakly at her but made no further protest, allowing himself to be touched by her strange hands.

After the leather was in place, Elias patted the beast gently, running her hands momentarily through the short, course brown hairs of his hide, lingering just slightly over the dark smears of war paint painted in symmetrical lines down his body. A beautiful, proud beast. _I hope he'll be alright_.

"Well done," the handler told her, sounding relieved as she made her way out of the pen, the dog still whimpering behind her. "Now I can treat the dog properly, poor fellow. Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds anytime soon?"

_Maker, I hope not_. "I may be, why?"

"There's a particular herb I could use to improve the dog's chances," he explained. "It's a flower that grows in the swamps here, if I remember. If you happen across it, I could use it. It's very distinctive," he assured her when she started to look unsure. "All white, with a blood-red center."

"Will the dog be alright without it?"

The keeper looked doubtful. "If he doesn't get it, chances are he'll need to be put down."

Elias' stomach squirmed at the thought of the proud, courageous animal being euthanized. "I'll see if I can find it."

"Good," the kennel master said kindly. "In the meantime, I'll begin treating our poor friend."

He bowed to her once and retreated back into the kennel to tend to his charges. Elias craned her neck to see what he was doing, but to no avail; the dog had gone too far back to be viewed from where she was standing.

_I suppose I've wasted enough time dallying_, the young woman said to herself with a sigh.

Turning northward, she quickened her pace and tried to look like she belonged, walking purposefully toward the area that she believed the guard had been indicating her fellow Warden might have gone. A woman passed her, appearing extremely disgruntled and glaring about her menacingly. Elias sidestepped her and was about to begin walking up the incline that led toward her destination when a cocky voice once again startled her out of her reverie.

"Well, you're not what I thought you'd be."

The man addressing her was tall, dark-haired and perhaps five or so years her senior. With his hazel eyes and rogueish smile, Elias decided that he was quite good-looking. He carried a handsome longbow on his back, which he was shifting absently as he stared at the young mage flirtatiously.

"What did you think I'd be?" Elias asked with a smirk.

"Not a _woman_," the young man said, emphasizing the last word just enough so that it stood out. "But here you are. The name's Daveth," he added with a fetching smile. "And it's about bloody time you came along. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit."

"Maybe they did," the young mage answered, grinning.

"Just to give us a good scare?" he asked with a chuckle. "No they don't really seem the type. I happen to be sneaking around camp last night, see," he told her, voice lowered conspiratorially, "and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in for a bit."

_I'm sure entirely by accident_, Elias' muttered silently, highly amused.

"I'm thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds," Daveth told her, eyes widening slightly in his excitement.

"The Wilds?" she asked, slightly embarrassed to admit that she was unfamiliar with the subject matter.

"We're right on the edge of the Korcari Wilds here," he told her. "Miles and miles of untamed country. My home village isn't far, and I grew up on tales about the Wilds. Even been in there a few times . . . scary place." Daveth mock-shivered and grinned.

"I'm sure they wouldn't send us into pointless danger," Elias told him reassuringly.

"Then why do the Grey Wardens only recruit people who can fight?" Daveth asked her with a raised eyebrow. "Or are you their first basket weaver?" He shrugged and smiled at her again. "I guess we'll have to wait and see. Like we've got a choice."

"I'll watch your back if you watch mine," Elias offered innocently, flashing the good-looking lad a winning smile.

"Oh, I'll _watch your back_," Daveth told her, laughing evilly to himself.

"Just don't get too distracted back there." She felt the heat rising in her face, a pleasant sensation that had been too-long absent from her life.

"I'll try to keep my wits about me," he promised, winking at her. "Anyway, I expect if you're finally here, that means Duncan is as well. That's where I'll be if you need me for anything."

He gave her one last devilish smirk before strolling off toward the large blazing campfire in the distance. Elias watched him go appreciatively for several seconds before shaking herself and finally setting to the task she had been given upon her arrival.

She strolled up the incline she had seen a few minutes earlier with renewed purpose, but stopped at the top. To her right was another incline, to her left a long expanse of empty space ending in a wooden table and benches attended by servants, elves by the look of them. She sighed. Of all the peoples in Thedas, elves were the only ones worse off than mages. _They're probably slaves_ she thought in disgust, glancing toward them and feeling slightly sick. _Although they won't ever be formally called that. Wouldn't be proper. _

Elias turned her back on them and climbed the slope instead. Near the top several meters off two men were arguing. She approached slowly, unsure if she was in the right place or not, and listened to their banter.

"What is it now?" the first was asking, a swarthy gentleman of middle age, obviously a mage. "Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"I . . . simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser Mage," the second was explaining, a much younger man very close to her own age, clad in heavy leathers and sounding slightly uncomfortable. "She . . . desires your presence."

"What her Reverence _desires_ is of no concern to me," the mage replied acidly. "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens, by the _King's orders_, I might add."

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" the other man asked innocently, a smile beginning to creep into the corners of his mouth.

"Tell her I _will not_ be harassed in this manner!" the mage said angrily, glaring at the younger man with extreme dislike.

"Yes . . . _I_ was harassing _you_ by delivering a message," the warrior replied sarcastically.

"Your glibness does you no credit," the mage responded, deadpan.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," the second man said with a mock-smile. "I was even going to name one of my children after you. The _grumpy _one," he added after a moment's thought.

"Enough," the mage said, sounding tired and irritated. "I will speak to the woman if I must." He turned on his heel and nearly smashed into Elias. "Out of my way, fool," he told her harshly before stalking off down the rampart the younger mage had just come from, mumbling to himself darkly.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," the young warrior mused wryly, and Elias giggled.

"I know exactly what you mean," she said with a smirk.

"It's like a party!" he exclaimed excitedly, trying not to laugh. "We could all stand in a circle and hold hands . . . that would give the darkspawn something to think about . . . wait . . ." he said, voice trailing off as he studied her features more closely, his eyes lingering just for a split second on the tattoo etched into the left side of her face. "We haven't met, have we? You don't happen to be another mage, do you?" he asked her, sounding slightly worried.

"I am indeed a mage," she told him hesitantly, afraid of a negative reaction given his last foray into dealing with the Circle.

"Really?" he asked incredulously, sounding highly surprised and openly gawking at her. "You don't look like a mage! Uh . . . that is . . . I mean . . . how interesting," he finished, sounding pleased about something that the young woman must have missed. "Wait, I _do _know who you are!" he told her, apprehension dawning on his pale features. "You're Duncan's new recruit from the Circle of Magi! I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

"And you must be Alistair," Elias replied, smiling. Too amused by the scene she had walked in on to pay much attention to whom she was speaking with, the young mage turned her full attention now to the man in front of her, relieved that at least part of the task Duncan had given her had been accomplished.

Alistair was tall, fair, broad-shouldered, and extremely handsome. She felt her ears grow slightly warm looking at him, and was amazed that she had failed to notice how good-looking the man was until now. He carried a short sword and shield on his back, and Elias hoped secretly that she would be somewhere near this man when it was finally time to do battle. Seeing him wielding the weapons he carried would be a welcome sight next to the gushing blood and flying heads that she was expecting.

"Did Duncan mention me?" Alistair asked, sounding slightly surprised. "Huh. Nothing bad, I hope. As the junior member of the Order, I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for the joining."

"Pleased to meet you," the mage said politely. "My name is Elias."

"Riiiight, that was the name," the young warrior said with a smile and a nod. "You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

"You want more women in the Wardens, do you?" Elias joked casually.

"Would that be so bad?" Alistair asked. "Not that I'm some drooling lecher, or anything—please stop looking at me like that," he added under his breath quickly, and Elias laughed again. "So, I'm curious," he said, brow furrowed slightly as he grew more serious. "Have you ever actually _encountered_ darkspawn before?"

"No, I haven't," she admitted, hoping it didn't make her seem any more innocent than being locked in a tower away from the world naturally did.

"When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was," Alistair explained, sounding slightly apprehensive. "I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another. Anyhow, whenever you're ready, let's get back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."

"That argument I saw. . ." Elias began, suspecting that she was being rude by inquiring into things that were not her business. "What was it about?"

"With the mage?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "The Circle is here at the King's request. And the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just _love_ letting mages know how unwelcome they are."

The young woman scowled at the ground, but said nothing. If Alistair noticed, he made no sign as he continued.

"Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position," he explained, sounding just the slightest bit nervous. "I was once a templar."

Elias gawked at her new acquaintance so obviously that she felt her eyes would surely fall right out of their sockets. "You were a mage-hunter?" she blurted tactlessly, not sure how else to phrase it.

"Not that that's all templars do!" he assured her quickly, looking guilty. "But . . . yes. I was raised by the Chantry until Duncan recruited me six months ago. I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult, sending me as her messenger. I never would have agreed to deliver it," he said with a sigh, "but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently they didn't get the same speech."

Making a quick decision in her mind that he seemed like a decent sort for an ex-templar, Elias smiled, slightly shy, at Alistair and said truthfully, "I look forward to travelling with you."

"You do?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Huh. That's a switch." He shook his head as if to clear it of unwanted thought before grinning and continuing. "If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on."

Elias blinked a couple times before realizing he was being serious. _Lead on? Me? Why me? Isn't he in charge?_ She asked herself, nevertheless turning about and descending the ramp she had just walked up and heading back the way she had come in search of Duncan. _Is he just testing me to see if I know where I'm going?_

What exactly her new companion was doing remained a mystery to her, however, as she wound her way around milling soldiers and hassled merchants and traced her steps backward to the spot Duncan had told her he could be found, Alistair a pace of two behind her. As she approached, Elias saw the older Warden, looking slightly hassled and short for time, emerge from a tent and speak with a man in armor she did not recognize. By the time they reached him he had finished, and turned to speak to them promptly.

"You found Alistair, did you?" Duncan asked rhetorically. "Good. I assume you're ready to begin preparations." He turned his attention to her companion and frowned, looking annoyed. "Assuming, of course, that you're finished riling up mages, Alistair?"

"What can I say? The Revered Mother ambushed me," Alistair joked with a grin, shrugging. "The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army."

"She forced you to sass the mage, did she?" Duncan asked, one eyebrow cocked disbelievingly. "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us."

"I apologize, Duncan," Alistair said, properly chastised. "I'll go collect who we're missing."

He marched off through the ruins and disappeared. Elias turned to question Duncan only to find that he had wandered back inside his tent, already intent on some other purpose. Having nothing else to do with herself, the young mage folded her hands and waited.

Within ten minutes, she saw Alistair's blond head bobbing through the crowd, followed by Daveth and another man perhaps ten years older, wearing full armor and running a hand through his thinning brown hair worriedly. As if on cue, Duncan reemerged from his tent as though no time had passed and stood watching the last few steps of their approach.

Once they were all within earshot of each other, Alistair stepped up and made introductions.

"This is Ser Jory, a knight of Redcliffe," he said, indicating the newcomer Elias did not recognize.

"How do you do?" he said politely with a courteous nod of his head in her direction.

"And this, of course, is the recruit Duncan said he was bringing," Alistair finished with a gesture toward Elias.

"That's me," Elias said nervously, attempting a smile. "The new girl."

"Now then," Duncan interjected, drawing all four sets of eyes in his direction. "Since you're all here, we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

"What do we need the darkspawn blood for?" Elias interrupted, completely aware that she was bordering on rude.

"For the joining itself," Duncan said cryptically. "I'll explain more when you return."

"And what's the second task?" Elias asked, slightly guiltily, as Duncan stood waiting for her to finish interrupting before continuing.

"There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds," Duncan told them, "abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls, if you can."

"And what if they're no longer there?" Elias interjected again, before Alistair had a chance to speak.

"It's possible that the scrolls may have been destroyed, or even stolen, though the seal's magic should have protected them," Duncan admitted with a frown. "Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal."

"I don't understand," Alistair piped up, sounding confused. "Why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?"

"It was assumed we would someday return," the older Warden replied with a shrug. "A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

"How will we find this archive?" Elias asked.

"It will be an overgrown ruin by now, but the sealed chest should remain intact," Duncan informed her. "Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search."

_Like he guided me back to you?_ Elias asked silently, restraining a giggle.

"Is this part of our Joining, too?" the young mage inquired again when she was sure her voice was neutral. She saw Ser Jory shift impatiently and felt even guiltier.

"No," Duncan assured her patiently. "But the effort must be made. I am confident you are up to the task."

"Find the archives and three vials of blood. Got it," Elias half-mumbled, embarrassed, deciding that she was done speaking for a little while.

"The scrolls contain treaties promising support," Duncan continued. "Treaties that may prove valuable in the days to come." He turned solemnly to his fellow Warden, who seemed to stiffen under the watchful gaze of his mentor, though not in fear. Elias got the feeling that the ex-templar held his commander in the very highest regard, and would like nothing better than to please him.

"Watch over your charges, Alistair," he commanded seriously. "Return quickly, and safely."

"We will," Alistair promised.

"Then may the Maker watch over your path," their Commander admonished with finality. "I shall see you when you return."

He nodded to them all once and departed, no doubt off to the next task in a very long list. The four companions stood and exchanged glances uncertainly for a few seconds before Alistair spoke up, gaze locked on Elias.

"We had best be on our way," he said, glancing skyward. "We'll definitely want to be back before nightfall. The gate is that way," he informed the young woman, pointing to their right.

Elias stared at the handsome young man incredulously as she yet again realized that he was waiting for her to move.

_How does this always happen to me?_ She wondered as she forced her body to walk forward, the others falling into step behind her. _Why me?_

This must be part of her test. Or something. But Daveth and Jory weren't being made to play leader. Did she simply draw the short straw? Sighing, she decided that it didn't matter and moved on.

As they approached the gate that would lead them into the Wilds, the guard hailed them initially but let them pass, warning them that even Wardens wouldn't be safe in such a place and they should return as soon as possible.

_Truer words were probably never spoken_, Elias thought darkly as she trekked through the gates, past the safety of the walls, and out into the forest, Daveth, Jory, and Alistair close behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Dragon Age still isn't mine. I promise. What? Stop looking at me like that.

Chapter 11

_In the absence of light, shadows thrive._

-Threnodies 8:21

"_Move!_" Elias screamed at Ser Jory, yanking him as hard to the right as she could.

Reacting more quickly than she would have expected, Jory recovered, drew his blade, dodged to the side and lunged, all in one fluid movement, for the wolf that moments before had missed his throat by inches. He caught it in the gut, his broadsword slicing cleanly through the flesh and penetrating the other side with a soft, squelching sound and a massive spray of blood. It splashed spectacularly over his armor, face, and hair, but the warrior seemed not to notice as he turned his weapon upon their next foe.

As Elias staggered backward, away from the pack of wolves now bearing down on her small party, and nearly tripped in her haste to avoid them, she quickly decided that the big, bright and cold outside world that she had always longed to be a part of was absolutely overrated.

_If we've been walking more than fifteen minutes, I'll eat Alistair_, she thought to herself, furious, lobbing off her spells in rapid-fire succession. Most found their targets, but a few, misaimed in the young mage's haste to ward off multiple foes, connected instead with the nearby landscape, showering them all with dirt clods and moss.

Their small band had left the relative safety of the ruins and gone further south, travelling slightly downhill as the sounds of the King's Camp retreated and they were swallowed in the damp, lingering silence of the trees. No one spoke as they made their descent, the three robust young men trailing behind the tiny mage by the distance of a few paces, obviously unsettled.

For once, Elias was glad that she had little knowledge of the activity in which she was participating. From what she had gleaned from Daveth in the two minutes they had spoken, and simply from the name itself, _The Wilds_, she gathered this was a place spoken of with awe and fear. Normally, she would have been fascinated to learn the lore of such a place; she supposed that, to the rest of the population-at-large, Kinloch Hold was probably looked upon with similar feelings of unrest.

However, she had to admit that being attacked within moments of their arrival did not do much save confirm its reputation.

Elias fired off another spell, scorching one canine so badly that she could smell its hair burning as it neared her, teeth bared in an angry snarl but obviously still quite capable of tearing her arms off. As she braced for impact, staff raised slightly to try and divert some of the force, Daveth intervened, stabbing it cleanly through the throat, spraying blood over her robes and grinning wickedly. Before she could utter a word of thanks or dismay he was off, giving her the merest hint of a wink before running to join Alistair, who appeared to be having a grand time fighting two wolves at once. The young mage took a second to watch the duo appreciatively before remembering that standing about and staring at her companions was not at all helpful. Guiltily, she turned and waded back into the fray.

_I have to admit, they're all quite good_, the young woman thought to herself as Jory beheaded his opponent and Alistair and Daveth simultaneously skewered the last remaining member of the pack. The dying animal fell to the ground with an earth-shattering shriek, and Elias winced. With the noise they had just made, it was a wonder that the entire darkspawn army didn't come swooping down upon their heads. The party remained in their stances, alert for more enemies, four sets of eyes trying to pierce the haze, ears strained for the sounds of footfalls or the crashing of underbrush. After several seconds, however, they all seemed to relax as one; Elias replaced her staff in the holster on her back and the men sheathed their blades, Ser Jory trying to clean his sword slightly on the sparse grass before finally returning it to its scabbard, nose wrinkled in mild distaste.

"I assume no one is injured?" Elias asked no one in particular, attempting to brush herself off a little. She supposed that if someone had been wounded they would have mentioned it; as it was, it would be very difficult to discern one blood spatter from another, each member of her group looking rather as though they had lain on the ground and rolled in it.

"Everything appears to still be attached," Daveth said, pretending to examine his limbs. "To me, at least."

"It bodes ill for this place that we are attacked within moments of our arrival," Jory said darkly, glancing behind them into the gloom of the trees.

"It's the Blight," Alistair explained. "It's more serious than just darkspawn on the surface, you know. It infects the land, poisons everything it touches. And it's not like the Wilds were friendly to begin with . . ."

"Agreed," Elias muttered, running her hand through her brown locks and getting a fist-full of grime for her troubles. "I suggest we finish our business and leave as soon as we can. How far to the Warden cache, Alistair?"

"Well, we've only been here about fifteen minutes," he reminded her gently, nonetheless removing the map Duncan had given him from his pack and attempting not to smear it with his bloodied fingers. "By this I'd say . . . at least another two hours, perhaps more, if we get lost."

"What'd you have to go and say that for?" Daveth asked, giving Alistair a dirty look.

Elias raised her hands reassuringly. "We're not going to get lost," she told Daveth, squishing down the little voice in the back of her mind that was reminding her persistently that she normally couldn't find her way out of a closet. "Two hours of walking isn't far enough to be concerned. Let's just move on as quickly as possible. I don't relish getting stuck here in the dark."

"Not enough to be concerned?" Daveth asked her under his breath with a smirk, the others turning away and attempting to decide in which direction to continue. "Did you miss the part where we were attacked by a pack of wild dogs?"

"I thought it was strange we were all covered in blood," Elias replied, giving her companion a mischievous smile. "I didn't want to alarm anyone by pointing it out, though."

"It's this way," Alistair interrupted, pointing directly in front of them. The forest floor continued on into the haze, sloping ever so slightly downward and disappearing. Elias could see that their path would take them around a stagnant pool of water, a small lake without ripples that made her uneasy, before vanishing completely into the silence of the trees. She nodded politely to Alistair to indicate that she had heard him before stepping forward, unconsciously resuming her leadership role and winding her way past the wolf carcasses, deeper into the Wilds.

Several paces forward she turned around, curious to see if her fellow recruits were following her when something caught her eye. It glinted a brilliant sapphire blue in the weak sunlight, shimmering steadily in the midst of the carnage that her troop had left behind.

"What _is_ that?" she asked Jory, who was closest at hand.

"What?" the warrior answered, body tensed in an instant, hand resting uneasily on the hilt of his sword. "What is what?"

"That . . . glinting," the young mage answered, jogging back to their previous position to investigate the strange phenomena.

Kneeling down, Elias moved the body parts of several wolves in distaste before uncovering her prize, a small glass vial about the size of her hand, unbroken and still corked, filled with a shifting, iridescent liquid and smeared with blood. Elias held it up to the light in wonder, surprise spread across her rounded face.

"It's . . . lyrium," she said in confusion, turning the vial over in her hands, as if this would change the outcome of her find.

"It's . . . what?" Jory asked, clearly lost.

"Lyrium," Alistair explained, leaning over to get a closer look at the item in the young woman's hands. "Mages use it to replenish their energy after casting spells."

"That thing is edible?" Daveth challenged, sounding doubtful. "Wonder what it tastes like."

"Grainy, and a little bitter," Elias informed him matter-of-factly, wiping the vital fluid from the vial and pocketing the lyrium potion before standing up. "Poor beast must have swallowed it."

"Wait, you're keeping it?" Alistair asked incredulously. "After you fished it out of the stomach of a dead animal? You're not actually going to _use_ it, are you?"

"I doubt you're going to care much _where_ I got it from if I'm slumped on the ground, exhausted, and the rest of you are being assaulted by hordes of darkspawn," Elias pointed out, attempting not to smile.

"Well, yes, but . . ." Alistair trailed off, still looking deeply disturbed. He sighed and smiled suddenly, and Elias felt her cheeks grow slightly rosier than she would have liked. "Good point," he admitted, and she replaced the glass holder in her pocket.

"If we're all quite done collecting souvenirs, I'd like to keep moving," Ser Jory reminded them, indicating the way forward.

The young mage stood up and began the long, mostly silent trek through the underbrush, ferns, and tree roots that clawed at their feet and into the waiting stillness, Jory and Daveth close on her heels and Alistair, appearing calm but alert, bringing up the rear.

Within ten minutes Elias was seriously regretting her promise that they were not going to get lost. Every tree looked the same, every stump identical to the last, the vines and leaves and growth appearing to be constantly repeating itself and providing no clue to their whereabouts whatsoever. No animals moved here, no swamp creatures croaked, no reptiles slithered over the wet vegetation that bent under their feet. _It's like I've wandered back into the Fade_, she thought to herself, keeping her face impassive so as to not reveal how disconcerted she was.

As they traveled deeper into the twilight and the already sparse light decreased even more, it became apparent that they were not the only ones who had met with difficulty in this changeless place. The farther in the group waded, the more tell-tale were the signs; scorched tree-trunks, flattened undergrowth, and blood everywhere, in quantities that suggested that at least three human bodies were drained to the last drop.

"This is a charming place," Daveth muttered, slapping the back of his neck as something bit him, avoiding a particularly large pool of blood. "So glad we decided to come here."

Elias didn't reply. Surely, if there was this much blood, there must be . . .

And there they were. In a clearing, perhaps ten meters in front of them, obviously dead, were soldiers. As her silent party pressed onward, Elias counted as many as six bodies, some lying face down, other staring sightlessly at the desolate sky, and still more crumpled into painful grimaces from which they would never unwind. All of them were men around Ser Jory's age, and obviously part of the King's Army; whatever their original mission had been, Elias doubted it had been completed.

Eventually, the smell reached them. Elias' stomach turned over and she gagged, glad that she had decided not to eat before their departure after all. Thankfully, the men they passed were not too badly decomposed, save one who had fallen into a pool of water, and the young mage managed, through sheer force of will, and by mentally repeating the names of the other mages from her dormitory alphabetically, to get her roiling stomach under control before she was sick.

As their path opened up the bodies thinned slightly, being replaced by a combination of broken barrels, wrecked carts with missing wheels, and the occasional beast of burden that looked as if it had been partially devoured by wild animals. The smell was especially strong here, and Elias held her breath, walking by perhaps more quickly than was necessary in her haste to be rid of the carnage.

_Clunk_.

Elias froze, listening, trying to discern the sound that had risen up mysteriously from the silent trees.

"Did anyone else hear that?" Alistair asked, sounding slightly uneasy.

The four companions ceased moving, all straining to hear anything at all in the oppressive void that had enclosed around them.

"Over there!" Daveth called out suddenly, running to the right. The others hastened to follow him, Jory looking grim and withdrawing his broadsword from its sheath.

At first Elias didn't see it; they were near another pool of water, as still and silent as the others they had passed, the cragged teeth of what had once been a human-built monument stretching toward the clouds in the background. She noticed there were more rotting animals here, and more bodies, but then she saw him; a man, wounded, but obviously still very much alive, doing his best to claw his way toward them, one hand painfully clasping the bleeding wound in his chest.

"Damnation!" Elias whispered under her breath, sprinting forward to check on the injured man.

"Who is that?" the man asked, struggling painfully with every word. Elias knelt down, gently helping him sit up enough to see them. "Grey Wardens?"

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Alistair said, regarding the other man somewhat sympathetically. Elias wasn't sure what to make of his comment, so she ignored him.

"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn," the man explained, grimacing, as Elias offered him a sip of water from her supplies. "They came out of the ground . . ." At this he sounded so horrified that the young mage felt the cold tendrils of fear she had been ignoring course down into her stomach and wind its way back up and into her throat. "Please help me," he pleaded, eyes locked on Elias. "I've got to . . . return to camp . . ."

"We can take you back," she told him kindly, bending slightly to attempt to hoist him up and to his feet.

"If you could just . . . bandage me up," the soldier interrupted, wincing slightly as the young woman removed her weight from him, "I can get back myself."

"I have bandages in my pack," Alistair interjected, kneeling to hand the dressings to his female companion. Elias helped the man remove the leather chest piece he was wearing and attempted to clean the wounds. Truth be told, she had not studied first aid or healing magics particularly, but she supposed she probably knew more than the other men that were with her.

As if in answer to her thought Alistair dropped to his knees to help, the two taking turns passing the wrappings back and forth amongst them, carefully covering the young soldier's gaping chest wound and the two or three other small, but bloody lacerations he had sustained. Within a few minutes they were finished, Elias wiping her crimson hands on the bottom of her robes, and Alistair standing up with the wounded man partially supported over his shoulder.

"Thank you . . ." the tired man said gratefully, pushing himself away from Alistair and attempting to shakily support his own weight. He looked at them all, one by one, with his tired, terrified eyes. "I . . . I've got to get out of here," he muttered finally, and limped away, the others watching him recede in silence until the fog swallowed him up.

"Did you hear?" Jory asked worriedly the second he was sure the wounded fellow was out of earshot. "An entire patrol of seasoned men, killed by darkspawn!"

"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair respond reassuringly. "We'll be fine if we're careful.

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed," Jory pointed out, refusing to be comforted. "How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred?" He lowered his voice slightly, as if the thought itself would hear his mutterings and find them where they stood in their small clearing. "There's an entire army hidden in these forests!"

"There are darkspawn about," Alistair admitted, sounding unconcerned, "but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know?" Jory asked Alistair challengingly. Turning his attention back to Elias, he said, "I am not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

Elias shook her head. "You forget, I have magic at my command," she reminded him, hoping she sounded comforting instead of arrogant. "We'll be fine."

Jory considered her words for several seconds. "I still do not relish the thought of encountering an army," he said, sounding slightly calmer.

"Know this: all Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn," Alistair informed them, either pretending that Jory had not interrupted him or perhaps not noticing. "Whenever they're coming, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here."

"You see, Ser Knight? We might die, but we'll be warned about it first," Daveth told his fellow recruit innocently with a roguish grin.

"That is . . . _reassuring_," Jory answered sarcastically, sounding vexed.

"Not that I'm here to make this easy, however," Alistair interrupted, glancing the three of them over with what Elias supposed the young man thought to be a stern look. She was not fooled. "So let's get a move on."

The three men turned to stare at her, apparently waiting for her to move. The young mage ground her teeth silently and stormed off in the direction they were previously heading, resolving to keep her sharp tongue under control and promising herself that she would _not_ be pushing Alistair over the next log they encountered.

_I'm not here to make this easy_, Elias' mind repeated in an exaggerated voice, her feet stomping through the still forest so loudly that she was surprised one of her companions didn't warn to her to use greater caution. _But_ _don't worry, I _am_ here to do absolutely _nothing_, by following behind you while you traipse halfway across Thedas with nary a clue where we're headed . . . _

Elias tore onward, furious, ignoring the flies that buzzed in her ears as their party passed the rest of the wounded soldier's regiment, passed the rotting animals that lay slain along their path, and passed several new pools of stagnant water, all identical in nearly every way to those that they had already seen.

She missed Jowan terribly. Where was he now? Was he safe? Had he found some kind, but dim soul to take him in and not ask too many questions? Was he even still alive? Jowan was her friend, but in her heart, Elias was unsure of his chances, even with his phylactery destroyed. He had never been particularly adept at subtlety or manipulation, was not, perhaps, even as powerful as the other apprentices his age. He was certainly no warrior, and Elias felt sure that in a fist-fight, she could easily break his nose and be off with his purse before he had even picked himself up off the ground.

_But, he's a good liar_, she remembered bitterly, and all of her rage melted away, replaced with the cold, pungent feeling of loneliness.

Breathing hard, the young woman slowed her rampage slightly and allowed her companions to catch up. Daveth reached her first, and when he was a few paces behind her she resumed her trek, albeit more slowly and much less conspicuously than before.

Elias turned her head slightly as she heard footfalls approach and saw Daveth, pace increased slightly so as to catch up to her. She sighed and allowed him to reach her, face an impassive mask of careful neutrality.

"I take it the lady is not pleased?" he asked with a smirk when he reached her.

The mage slowed to a stroll and glanced as covertly as she could at the others. They were simply walking, entirely oblivious to her conversation with Daveth and her anger the moment before. Relieved and slightly guilty, she turned back to the young man addressing her.

"Do _you_ want to be in charge of finding the monsters and leading us out of this maze?" she asked him testily, deciding not to hide the source or her frustration.

"Me?" Daveth asked, taken aback. "No, no, that's alright, I'll just leave that honor to you, thanks."

She stared, slightly amused, at the older man standing next to her and grinning so slyly that Elias laughed despite her annoyance. _I see you're extremely charming, when you want to be._ She smiled at him and turned her eyes back to the road. _I wonder how many nights we have before the battle? I'm weary of lying alone . . . _She felt her face and neck getting warm and shuffled ahead, away from the other men, dragging her mind firmly back to the task at hand.

The young woman hadn't traveled more than a few steps, however, before the atmosphere of the forest changed so noticeably that she stopped moving, eyes straining through the mist to decipher the cause. She turned around to address her companions, but only Alistair seemed to have noticed. He too had stopped moving, and stood staring at the sky, eyes unfocused, as if searching for something only he could see. Elias gawked at him, heart thumping painfully in her chest, breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she fought down the unwelcome panic that assuaged her mind and body.

"What is it?" she whispered to Alistair, quickly moving back to rejoin her group, but the former templar had already drawn his sword, face twisted into a scowl of barely-contained disgust.

"Darkspawn!" he said, eyes never straying from the same spot in front of them.

Elias glanced at the area on which he was focusing and saw nothing, only empty countryside and more fog. "Are you sure?" she asked, not wanting to offend the man but still unable to see anything. "Do they know we're here?"

As if to answer her disbelief, an arrow soared out of nothing and missed her ear by inches, imbedding itself in a tree several yards behind them.

"I feel comfortable hazarding a guess at 'yes'" Alistair answered her, raising his shield to deflect more arrows if they came.

"Darkspawn!" Elias thundered at Daveth and Jory, charging forward stupidly before she was entirely aware of what she was doing. "Kill them all!"

The young mage neared a small knoll, and atop it she finally spotted them; five of the most horrifying creatures she had ever seen. The two in front were tall and vaguely humanoid, but there all similarities with humanity abruptly ended. Bald, scarred, tattooed, and corpselike, the darkspawn before her appeared to literally be rotting from the inside out. Its skin looked as though it were sloughing off its face, its bloodied armor appearing barely attached to the muscular build as its carapace decayed and the taut, ugly skin threatened to shed itself from the grotesque body. As she neared, she heard the thing give a great howl, wide mouth filled with jagged teeth incapable of speech. Elias knew they were not corpses, but a different species of being altogether, something inhuman and old and indefinable. Why had she never asked more questions about the darkspawn? Even the demons of the Fade seemed to pale in comparison to these hideous creatures. They were truly a monstrous sight to behold.

The young woman gritted her teeth in distaste, refusing to show her fear, refusing to think about anything other than defeating her enemy, of accomplishing their task. _I will be damned if I am to die before I'm even made a proper Warden!_ She thought to herself, bloodlust aroused. She planted her feet firmly on the rocky turf, the creature before her perhaps ten feet away, drew her staff, and fired off her first spell, the electricity surging forth from the weapon and hitting her opponent firmly in the chest.

The beast faltered, took a step back, grasping its chest in fury, but remained upright. With renewed vigor it charged her, swinging its massive weapon at her head. Elias ducked to the side, but the second brute was upon her also, and she was less successful at avoiding its well-aimed blow. She retreated back, but too late; its blade penetrated the soft flesh of her upper arm cleanly, and the mage shrieked. With her free arm, furious with herself for being so reckless, she turned her uninjured arm toward her new assailant. Flames erupted out of her outstretched hand, scorching the darkspawn so badly that it leapt backward, engulfed in angry orange glow, howling in pain.

But Elias' first adversary was still before her, and it had reoriented on the wounded mage. Sure of victory, it swung it's broadsword toward her face, but instead of the soft flesh it was expecting, it connected with the cold steel of Alistair's blade, the young warrior's shield brought up to bash the monster in the face in its surprise.

"Thanks for that," Elias said breathlessly as her companion passed, moving more swiftly than was probably wise given her blood loss. She retreated to the rear, bloody arm clutched by the other uninjured limb. Quieting her mind and ignoring the sounds of battle and the physical pain she was experiencing, the young woman felt the blue glow erupt outward and encase her arm, healing almost all the damage that had been done. Renewed and even more enraged by her injury, she charged back in, careful this time to let the more armored members of her party engage the enemy directly.

Speaking a few well-chosen words under her breath, Elias cast a spell that she had been scoffed at for learning during her years of training in the tower. As the spell took effect, she felt a hard casing, almost stone-like, encompass her body before the light from the spell faded and died.

An arrow, fired from atop the small hillock they were facing, flew straight for her and hit her in the shoulder. The spell she had cast saved her, just in time, the blow that would have possibly crippled her instead bouncing off and landing several feet away. Elias winced but moved forward; it still hurt, but a bad bruise was preferable to a lethal piece of wood sticking out of her body.

Satisfied that the enchantment had done its job well enough, Elias waded back into the fray, following her new comrades up the hill to engage the remainder of the enemies. The two tall darkspawn that she had tried to take on single-handedly lay dead, one beheaded and the other nearly cut in half, no doubt by Jory's massive broadsword.

When she reached the foot of the hill, Elias noted in passing, lobbing a deadly bolt of energy at her nearest foe, that the three remaining darkspawn were of a different breed than their first adversaries.

About the height of a dwarf, these darkspawn were less corpselike, with long, pointed ears, small, squinty eyes, greenish-grey skin, and a massive mouth full of pointed teeth. They, too, were adorned in bloody, poorly-made armor, and most also sported ugly, distorted bows. Suddenly aware of where the flying projectiles had been coming from, Elias stretched forth her arms, and hit two of the three remaining darkspawn in the face, flames leaping from her outstretched hands and scorching their monstrous flesh. One, the smaller of the two, seemed almost not to notice, instead keeping his focus on Daveth, who was busy hacking at it with his dual daggers, face twisted in concentration.

The second, however, ceased the violent attack it had been delivering to Jory moments before and howled in agony, falling to the ground as its skin bubbled and melted in the fierce heat. After several seconds, it ceased its flailing and did not stir.

The young mage, triumphant, turned her attention back toward the others but found herself with little to do; one fiend was quickly dispatched by Alistair, slashed across the chest so that it's innards spilled out and littered the already blood-drenched ground. The other, burns still evident upon its gnarled face, received Daveth's double-daggers straight to its throat, splattering them all with its foul blood before slouching over and expiring.

Filthier than ever, Elias allowed herself to slump onto the earth, breathing heavily, not even caring that she was sitting in the life-blood of another creature, brand new robes soiled beyond recognition. Her companions joined her, slouching over for several seconds in recovery.

With apparently no more darkspawn on the way, the mage allowed her eyes to wander over her companions, letting her eyes fall on each one in turn before realizing that Jory was slightly bloodier than the others. He had a gash over his left eyebrow that was bleeding freely and another much deeper laceration on his upper thigh that was veritably gushing. As Elias watched, the Knight tried to staunch its flow with his gauntleted hands, but with little effect.

Standing up, nettled, the mage walked forward and knelt at his side, studying the wounds for a few seconds as she allowed the energy within her to build.

"Let me heal you," she offered, placing a small hand over the deeper, more dangerous cut in Jory's leg.

"I shall be fine," Jory assured her, inching away from her slightly as she made to touch him again. "They are flesh wounds, nothing more."

Elias gnashed her teeth in disgust, but when she spoke her words were calm and concerned. "Surely, Ser Knight, you are unafraid of a little friendly magic?"

Jory's faced flushed and he looked away, embarrassed, as Elias once again placed her hands over his wounded body. This time she did not wait for his word of acquiescence before beginning, allowing her spell to flow over him and close the gouges in his body.

After she was done, the mage stood up, satisfied. "You're welcome," she said waspishly, walking away from the group before Jory could speak to try and approximate how much farther they had to travel.

Is this what it would be like everywhere? Did everyone fear magic? Elias wanted to be angry, but in all actuality, she was just tired. She could only hope that, after she had proven herself, at least some of her fellow Wardens would begin to trust her.

"We have a lot further to go before we're done," Elias reminded her troupe, as the men began to hoist themselves up and adjust their armor. "Let's keep moving."

"Don't forget the blood," Daveth admonished her, pointing to the small leather pouch strapped to her side.

She didn't want to admit it, but Elias _had_ entirely forgotten their task in her exhaustion and self-righteous anger. The darkspawn blood. They had to gather three vials of it before returning. It was a good thing that Daveth had mentioned it.

"Right, almost slipped my mind," the mage confessed with an embarrassed smile, extracting the glass phials from her carrier. Bending back down toward the prone corpses at her feet, she filled one vial easily and the second with some effort, but there was too little blood left for the third; it seems the beasts had bled out while her party had rested. At first Elias tried scraping the blood off the grass and into her remaining container, but after a few minutes of this she gave it up as a lost cause, replacing the smeared glass holder back in her pouch with a sigh.

"We'll have to find more darkspawn before we leave the Korcari Wilds," she informed the men, striding back up as she retied the strings of her purse. "They lost too much blood too quickly for me to fill more than two bottles."

"Honestly, I doubt that we'll make it all the way to the Grey Warden cache without encountering more of them," Alistair told her frankly, glancing behind her at the bodies of their fallen attackers. "Getting the last vial probably won't be a problem."

"That's what I thought," Elias said grimly, re-holstering her staff and straightening her rumpled robes. "Let's get this over with."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Still re-doing parts of the story; thanks for sticking with me!

Disclaimer: The enemy's gate is down.

Chapter 12

The party continued, making decent time, traveling south over more swampy, cadaver-ridden woodland, alert for further attack, but finding only silence. After perhaps twenty minutes they passed a huge tree, felled so long ago that she doubted anyone alive could have done it, so obscured in moss and grasses that at first she thought it another small hill. Elias was about to walk past it when she noticed that atop it, stretching their white petals toward the feeble sunshine were flowers, snow-colored with a crimson center.

Doubling back, Elias bent to pick several, stashing them in her purse beside the vials of blood she had obtained earlier. Her companions stopped to watch curiously, Daveth with his eyebrow raised as she ran back, feeling self-conscious.

"More souvenirs?" the roguish young man asked with a half-smile. "You do seem to enjoy collecting things . . ."

The young woman laughed and shook her head. "I promised someone that I'd bring them—"

"A bouquet?" Daveth asked sarcastically, grinning.

"One of the hounds swallowed darkspawn blood during the last battle," Elias explained to the group, resuming her southerly trek through the wilderness. "I was asked to keep an eye out for these blossoms. Apparently they have curative properties. I said I'd return with some, if I came across any."

"I'd like to apologize," Jory blurted out, changing the subject abruptly and causing Elias to momentarily pause. He hurried to catch up to the mage, a guilty expression playing across his honest face

"I had no right to be suspicious of you earlier," he admitted, now walking so quickly that Elias was having a hard time keeping pace with the man. "I acted rudely, and I apologize. It's just this wretched place. I am on edge. I assure you, it won't happen again."

"Apology accepted, Ser Knight," Elias answered with a shy smile, genuinely surprised that the man had brought the matter up. "I sometimes forget the way magic is viewed by those outside of the Circle of Magi. I should not have been so offended. I apologize, as well."

The mage returned her gaze to the path before them, but within a few seconds she was startled out of her reverie by Alistair, who had fallen into step beside her and was watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Yes?" she asked curiously, eyebrows raised.

"You know, it just occurred to me that you won't have to worry about being a mage, after the Joining, I mean. Grey Wardens seldom care where you came from or what you were, as long as you can handle a sword," Alistair informed her amicably, smiling. "Or, in your case, a spell."

"That's . . . very kind of you to say," Elias muttered, avoiding his blue eyes. "Thank you."

She was relieved, extremely relieved, but if asked why would not have been able to say. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had fallen in with the only people under the Maker's sky that would not care that she was a mage. Maybe it was just that another being, especially an ex-templar, could speak so kindly to her and ask nothing in return. Elias was unsure, but still, with the turbulence her life seemed to have undergone in the last two weeks, she was grateful nonetheless.

"So where are you from, Ser Jory?" Elias asked, loudly enough that she was sure to be heard by everyone. It seemed silly, if they were to soon be fighting side-by-side against a massive army filled with monsters, not to get to know each other a little first.

"I hail from Redcliffe, but Duncan recruited me in Highever, a city off the northern coast," he answered, slapping some biting insect off of one arm absentmindedly. "Have you traveled there?"

"No, never," the mage admitted regretfully. "The mages are rarely allowed out of the Tower, and certainly not on a journey so far, unless the need is great."

"A pity," Jory said with a smile. "It is beautiful there, even in winter. I was in Arl Eamon's retinue when he attended King Maric's funeral," he began to explain, avoiding the mud as best he could while still holding a conversation. "It was in Highever that I met my Helena. I was smitten. She has the most beautiful eyes, my Helena. For years, I found any excuse to return to there," he admitted, chuckling. "We were married a year ago. Arl Eamon gave me leave to serve in Highever, but I was attempting to persuade Helena to come to Redcliffe with me. At least, until I was recruited."

"How did the Grey Wardens find you?" she asked, hoping that his story was slightly less depressing than her own.

"Last month, Duncan visited Highever, and the Bann held a tournament in his honor. I won the grand melee," Jory said with a hint of pride. "It was hard to leave my wife. We married only a year ago, and she is heavy with child now. But . . . Ferelden needs my blade, and I shall not falter."

"That's commendable, Ser Jory," Alistair told him, glancing back slightly to make eye contact. "I'm sure she's very proud of you."

_And very worried_, Elias' mind interjected, but she did not say it, knowing it would seem a rebuke.

"What of you, Daveth?" Jory asked politely. "From where do you hail?"

"I grew up 'bout a day's trip to the east," Daveth told the older man. "Little blot you wouldn't even find on a map. Haven't been back in years," he added as an afterthought. "I struck out for the city as soon as I could outrun my Pa. I've been in Denerim for . . . what, six years now? Never liked it much. But there's more purses there than anywhere else."

"So . . . you're a cutpurse?" Jory asked him, disdain evident in his voice.

"And a pick-pocket, thank you very much," the rogue answered happily, apparently pleased with the reaction he had evinced. "Or was, anyhow. Who ever thought I'd end up a Grey Warden?"

"How did you end up here?" Elias asked, careful to keep her voice from sounding reproachful.

"I found _them_," Daveth explained, smiling wickedly. "I cut Duncan's purse while he was standing in a crowd. He grabs my wrist, but I squirm out and bolt. The old bugger can run," the man said with a deferential nod, "but the garrison caught me first. I'm a wanted man in Denerim, you see, so they were going to string me up right there."

"What happened next?" the young woman inquired excitedly. She was trying unsuccessfully to remember that this dashing man was a thief and that stealing was morally wrong.

"Duncan stopped them," Daveth said, sounding thoroughly flabbergasted. "Invoked the right of conscription. Gave the garrison the finger as I was walking away," he added, extremely proud. "Don't know why Duncan wants someone like me, but he says that finesse is important, and that I'm fast with a blade. Ha! You bet your boots I am." And as if to illustrate his point, he drew one of his daggers, threw it high in the air and caught it by the tip, deftly balancing it in his callused hand and smoothly re-sheathing it before Elias even had time to smile. She knew logically it was a parlor trick, but, unaccustomed to such swordplay having lived among mages, was still impressed and let it show, earning her a smile and wink from the pickpocket.

"And what about you, Alistair?" Elias inquired quickly, hoping to avoid being asked her own story, and unsure how to explain everything if she was. "Where are you from?"

The former templar let out a quiet sound that was either impatient or evasive, Elias was unsure, but suspected the former. Guiltily, she increased her pace and pretended she had not asked.

But the young man was faster than she and had longer legs, and so caught her easily, falling once again into step beside her, gaze locked with hers.

"I didn't mean to pry," Elias explained quickly, voice lowered so that only Alistair would hear. "I was just trying to get to know everyone. Are you sure you won't tell me a little about yourself?"

He made the sound again, but answered promptly this time, now that there was no one else to hear him.

"As I said back at camp, I was trained as a templar before Duncan recruited me about six months ago," he started, voice low but friendly. Suddenly Elias suspected the reason he had been less than keen to speak with her about his past. "The Chantry raised me, and becoming a templar was a decision made _for_ me, a long time ago. Duncan saw I wasn't happy, and figured my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn, and now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden." He shrugged, smiling, and continued. "The Grand Cleric wouldn't have let me go if Duncan hadn't forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him."

"You didn't want to join the Chantry?" Elias asked, pleasantly surprised.

"It just . . . wasn't for me," Alistair said earnestly. "I believe in the Maker well enough, but I never wanted to devote my _life_ to the Chantry."

The young woman smiled at her feet, liking this man more and more. However, she doubted she could pursue the conversation much further in the direction it was currently headed, and so changed the subject.

"You speak fondly of Duncan," Elias mentioned airily, hoping the young man might indulge her curiosity further.

"I spent years in the Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate," Alistair answered with a wry smile, apparently unaware that the young mage was pumping him for information. "Duncan was the first person to care what _I_ wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the Grand Cleric to help me."

"Will you tell me about him?" Elias asked politely. "I didn't get much of a chance to speak with him after we met and I was . . . conscripted." She made sure to keep her pace quick as they talked. They had little time before the sun set, and Elias was loathe to be in this haunted place a minute longer than need be, present company or no.

"Well, Duncan is the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden," Alistair informed her. "Which he would say doesn't mean much, as there aren't many of us here. Yet.  
Beyond that, he's a good man," the warrior said earnestly, almost fondly, and Elias caught the same hint of hero-worship that she had detected during their first conversation in Ostagar. "A good judge of character. I owe him a lot."

Alistair paused, fixing Elias with a polite stare as if only then realizing that she had been listening to him at all. "What about you?" he asked curiously, face still friendly but impassive. "What do you think of him?"

"I owe him, as well. He saved me," Elias admitted, averting her eyes and hoping he would not probe her with follow-up questions. She doubted even an ex-templar as kind as Alistair wound understand about Jowan.

"That sounds familiar," the warrior said knowingly. "He's done the best he can with what little he has... and that includes me, I guess."

There were several minutes of silence where the only the sounds to be heard were twigs cracking and the sloshing of mud under booted feet. Finally, when she thought enough time had passed and she was safe from unwanted questions, Elias leaned in slightly closer than was needed and asked, "May I ask you something else?"

"Like . . . what?" Alistair answered, surprised, blue eyes locked with her grey-blue ones.

"Well . . . what is a Blight?" Elias asked frankly, pretending not to be embarrassed that she didn't know. "Where do darkspawn come from?"

"You want the Chantry's version, or the truth?" Alistair asked, smiling mischievously.

"Let's start with the Chantry's version, I suppose, please," she answered.

"According to the Chant of Light, the Maker imprisoned the Old Gods underground long ago as punishment for tricking mankind into worshipping them," Alistair started, voice taking on a sarcastic resonance as he told his tale melo-dramatically. "The Old gods still whispered to some men, and taught them magic. These men became the magisters of the Tevinter Empire. The magisters used their gift to enter the Golden City, tainting it and themselves. They were cast out by the Maker, and became the first darkspawn. They fled underground, bringing their taint to their gods. The tainted Old Gods were the archdemons, who rose from their prisons and led the darkspawn against the world."

"And the truth?" Elias inquired, giggling despite the heavy subject matter.

"The truth is, we don't really know. They come up from the ground and that's as far as we've gotten," he admitted, slightly more serious.

"So what you were just talking about was the first blight?" Elias wondered aloud, more familiar with that subject for the reading she had done as a young apprentice in the tower library.

"Yes, and it nearly wiped us out," Alistair told her matter-of-factly. "When defeated, the darkspawn flee back underground and seek out another Old God to taint, thus bringing about the blight."  
"So . . . where is the archdemon for this blight?"

"We haven't seen it yet. People are beginning to think this is just an unusually large darkspawn raid without an archdemon to unify them. But seriously," the young mad added gravely, "the archdemon could be in the Wilds, or underground. It could be hiding. Just because it hasn't shown itself doesn't mean it isn't out there." Alistair shuddered and fixed her with a hesitant, guilty stare. "The Grey Wardens have always kept watch. We . . . _ feel _the darkspawn when they come. That's why we're so sure this is a true blight. You'll understand after the Joining if you . . . well, you'll understand," he promised, trailing off ominously. At this he broke her gaze, staring instead steadfastly at his feet as if he had only just discovered them.

Elias' mind reeled. _If I what?_ She wanted to scream at him. It was like the Harrowing all over again. Why were others allowed to get away with such things? What dangerous, reckless, ridiculous thing were they going to make her do now? Her mind drew up pictures of being sent back into the Fade again before she realized that such a test would not work uniformly for everyone. A test of skill, then, against her companions? A battle royale, with only one of them emerging the victor? But then why did they have to retrieve blood from these fiends?

The mage felt fury beginning to rise within her, but quickly pushed it back. _Keep your wits, girl_ she chided herself, annoyed. _It will do you no good to dwell on that which cannot be changed. Use your brain and ask Alistair. He is the only one like to tell you. At least then, you'll have some idea what to expect._

They walked on in silence for perhaps two minutes before Elias asked her question, gauging that her traveling companion was now at optimum guilt and more likely to divulge secrets he normally would not have uttered.

"I have a question . . . about the Joining ritual," she admitted in her most respectful voice, not entirely meeting the young man's startled eyes. She hated being so manipulative, but didn't see much choice. If they were going to put her to the sword in a matter of hours, the least she could do was try and plan a way out of it.

Alistair, as she had expected, was not at all pleased that she had brought the subject up. He shuffled his booted feet awkwardly, glancing to the right and left to make sure that they were not being overheard. Finally, he leaned in so close that the young woman was surprised he didn't continually bump into her as they walked.

"There's . . . not a lot I can tell you," the ex-templar informed her, voice lowered conspiratorially. "We go and collect darkspawn blood. Then you'll hear everything."

"Surely you can tell me _something_," Elias responded in her most persuasive, feminine voice.

"Look, I can't tell you much," Alistair said, sounding genuinely sorry, face drawn in worry. "The Joining is . . . very unpleasant. I wish I could forget mine, but I can't. I don't envy what you're going to have to go through."

"But what actually _happens_ in the Joining?" she pressed, grateful and annoyed simultaneously.

"You learn why it's a secret," the Warden answered evasively, once again examining his toes.

"Is it anything like the Harrowing?"

"I don't know anything about the Harrowing," Alistair said, vaguely disdainful. "We don't cast any spells, if that's what you're asking."

Elias sighed inwardly. She doubted she would get anything more out of the man, but was grateful he had deigned to tell her anything at all. Daveth and Jory didn't even have that much.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," the young woman said airily with a smile, feigning a confidence she did not feel.

"That's the spirit!" Alistair exclaimed heartily, obviously relieved that she was going to leave off questioning him. "Honestly, if becoming a Grey Warden were easy, we wouldn't recruit the best, would we?" And he smiled at her, an honest, friendly smile that left Elias feeling lightheaded and slightly giddy.

_It truly has been too long since I've enjoyed a man's company_ the young woman thought to herself, disgruntled, as she returned Alistair's warmth and then fell silent, widening the gap between them to discourage further conversation.

As they continued the land began to slope gently downward, a gradual descent that led them deeper and deeper into the hostile murkiness of the forest. Eventually the number of bodies began to wane, replaced instead by rotting archways and dilapidated structures so old that the young woman doubted anyone could tell what they had been in the days of their making. Scattered here and there amidst the ruins were some of the ugliest, crudest structures she had ever seen. Bloody, bent, twisted, it took her several seconds to realize that they were probably fortifications, built by the darkspawn to try and slow the King's forces should they press into the Wilds.

Eventually the travelers passed by the largest edifice they had yet encountered, crumbling into time just as much as the others, and fitted with thick, rough rope around several portions of its girth, for what practical purpose was unclear. It was easily twenty feet tall, and dangling from its ceiling just low enough to almost brush the top of her head were more cadavers, the freshest they had yet seen, eyes gouged out and hands bound, hanging limply by their necks, a warning to all who passed.

As they neared the macabre monument, Alistair winced slightly, regretful. "Poor slobs. That just seems so _excessive_," he said under his breath, but the young mage was sure she was the only one to hear him.

Elias gauged that they were about halfway to their destination before they were attacked again. This time, however, she saw them before they had a chance to riddle her with arrows.

There were more of them than they had faced last time. The young woman counted eight, bunched together and howling excitedly on a series of rotting planks that Elias supposed passed for a bridge, stretching precariously over more shallow, brackish water that would probably reach up to the short woman's waist if she fell in it. As she neared the monsters her pace involuntarily slowed until she came to a dead stop, feet planted ten feet or so from the nearest adversary. She felt the men in her company surge forward to clash magnificently with the short, stocky, violent beings that shrieked in delight at the thought of more killing, but the mage's vision was focused upon something else.

Near the back of the throng of friend and enemy, standing nearly out of sight, was a lone darkspawn, taller, different than its allies, with a peculiar stance and specific weapon and different markings, not particularly interested in wading in or helping its comrades at first glance. And something about this creature, more than any of the others they had encountered, made Elias extremely uneasy.

_This being commands magic!_ Her mind finally thundered, as she felt the energy building within her, about to release her first spell. _Maker help us! The darkspawn have mages?_

"It's an emissary!" Alistair shouted at her, noticing her hesitation, cleanly lobbing the head off of one foe and moving to intercept a second. "It casts spells! We need to kill it as soon as possible!"

"We need to kill them _all_ as soon as possible!" Elias thundered back, sending her bolt of electricity soaring through the air; it hit her target, the _emissary_, as Alistair had called it, in the torso, knocking it back and into an outcropping of rocks. "But, agreed. I've got this one."

The emissary, by this point, had recovered. It stood up, howled with rage, and focused all its hostilities on Elias, sending bolt after bolt, spell after spell, forcing the young woman to be constantly moving, ducking down or darting behind the scenery to avoid being pelted to death with volatile energy.

"Would someone _please_ lob this thing's head off!" Elias shrieked to no one in particular. She threw herself forward into what she perceived was an opening, sending another missile flying toward her nemesis. Unfortunately, inexperienced as she was in battle, she didn't notice its last attack was still flying toward her. It hit her in the ribs, and Elias doubled over, furious. It felt very much like the time as a child when she had tried to escape the Tower and had been kicked in the side by a booted foot, the templar that had chased her down furious at having to wade into the frigid waters of Lake Calenhad to retrieve a clumsy apostate eight-year-old.

Pushing the memory to the back of her mind, the mage straightened back up and fired off another spell, and another. What felt like a flaming rock hit her shoulder, but she grit her teeth and ignored it, content to do as much damage as she could, confident that she would be able to heal her own injuries before she passed out, or worse. The creature was too far away for Elias to light it on fire, but she still had plenty of projectiles to send its way, so she flung them with abandon, ignoring all else and hoping somewhere in the back of her head that her allies would eventually finish what they were doing and distract this creature long enough for her to finish it off.

As if to answer her unspoken wish, Alistair charged forward, crashing into the emissary, knocking into it with his shield with such force that it veritably flew backward before landing on its rump, stunned and unmoving.

_That's all I needed_, Elias thought to herself, triumphant. She worked in frenzy, her brow becoming moist with sweat in the cool afternoon air, sending bolt after screaming bolt of crackling energy forth to collide spectacularly with the monster's diseased flesh. The emissary, now facing two opponents, one of them heavily armored and bearing down on it with a sword, switched its attention from mage to warrior, pelting Alistair with as many spells as it could fire, most of which were deflected by his sturdy shield. Before the young man could run it through, however, Elias had it, sending one final attack soaring toward their opponent which connected with the beast's head.

It crumpled to the ground unspectacularly, scorched but otherwise seemingly unharmed, Alistair standing over its corpse, surprised. He turned backward and caught Elias' eye, grinning, and Elias felt more pleased with herself than she could remember being in a long time.

The last two darkspawn were quickly dealt with, Jory and Daveth dispatching them easily and nearly in sync.

"How much farther to that sodding cache?" Elias asked Alistair as she jogged up to where the men were standing, not even bothering to reference the battle they had all just fought.

"We're almost there," Alistair assured her without removing the map from his pack. He was unharmed, she noted, but seemed to get dirtier with each passing battle. "A half hour, maybe less."

Without reply, Elias bent down, extracted the last, empty vial from her pouch, uncorked it and filled it, watching the thick liquid course into the glass container with mild fascination. After several seconds she finished, replaced the stopper, and thrust the container back into her pack, satisfied.

"Well, let's get on with it."

In all honestly, Elias was exhausted. She had drawn on more energy than she cared to admit to make it through the last two battles, and desperately wanted to sit down on the wet grass and allow herself to rest for an hour. But the longer her party remained in the Wilds, the darker it got, the more the day wore on, and the more the young woman began to fear that they would not be able to make it back to the relative safety of the King's Camp before dusk overtook them.

Across the bridge the party ceased their southerly trek and turned north, the stagnant water and rotting corpses of before replaced by grassy land dotted with more tottering structures and the occasional head on a pike. No one said anything. The signs of darkspawn occupation became more and more pronounced, and Elias found herself hoping that Alistair was correct, and they would not be walking into the bulk of the horde. Just the fringe remnants were terrifying enough to last her a lifetime.

And yet, in just a few days, perhaps less, the four of them were going to fight an army of these things. The young woman found that thinking about this reality proved difficult. What would she be doing? Where would she be placed? What was expected of her? There were thousands, hundreds of thousands, of darkspawn somewhere in these forests, with barely a third of that number, from what she had seen, camped with the king at Ostagar. Duncan had mentioned that he had called to the Orlesian Grey Wardens for aid. Would they make it in time? Elias doubted it. It seemed that, whatever was to happen, it was to happen soon, and Ferelden would be on its own for the duration.

The last half hour passed in relative peace and silence. They walked unmolested through the rest of the forest, dirty and tired, but alert for any shift in the air, any silent change that might signify further hostilities with their mortal enemies.

In the distance loomed a huge edifice, broken and crumbling as all the others, larger than the rest, so big that Elias could easily see the remnants of building or fortress in the deteriorating mess that was the ruins of the Korcari Wilds.

"That should be it," Alistair informed her, noticing the direction in which she was looking, curious. "The cache we're searching for should be in there, assuming everything hasn't been destroyed by time and rot."

"Now, now," Elias said playfully with a smirk, increasing her pace now that her target was finally within sight. "Optimism, please."

Alistair laughed. "Riiiight, I forgot," he said, matching the young woman's pace. "Must have been the bloody heads on pikes every hundred feet or so. Made me momentarily forget myself."

This time it was Elias' turn to giggle. "I don't think I've ever laughed about something so inappropriate before," she admitted, looking slightly guilty. "I guess I'm just relieved to almost be rid of this place. Even as charming as those heads-on-pikes are," she added with a grin when the ex-templar gave her a look of mock-disbelief.

The ruined monument loomed ever closer, and she felt herself growing more and more at ease with every step. Finally, one way or another, they could leave this wretched place and return to Duncan. _Just in time to fight again_, Elias' brain reminded her stubbornly.

She was about to mention this fact to Alistair, perhaps to try and get more information out of the lad, when they were attacked again.

This time, however, there were fewer, perhaps four, lead by a massive figure in a horned helmet and great double-sided battleaxe nearly as long as she was tall. The young woman was about to shout a warning to her companions, but soon realized that they had sprung into action before she could open her mouth, intercepting the leader and cleaving fiercely into his makeshift armor.

Hurrying to catch up, Elias reached up to unhitch her staff from the straps that carried it snugly on her back. It wouldn't budge. Hoping fervently that no one had noticed, she tugged and tugged, cursing under her breath at ever second that ticked by. Eventually giving up, she turned her attention to the nearest enemy, and had just enough time to reach forth her hands to smite it with a single blast of electric energy when it fell dead to the ground, sliced in half by Jory's broadsword.

Embarrassed, the mage turned to find a second enemy only to find that there were none; all of the beasts had been dealt with while she had been struggling to unhitch her weapon. Red in the face but pretending not to care, she jogged back up to her traveling companions, giving them a smile and a nod that she hoped was pleasing and encouraging.

"Almost there!" Elias said heartily with a wide smile, gesturing toward the inside of the ruins they were now standing directly in front of. "Look! I can see it from here . . ." If the others had noticed her lack of help in the last fray, no one said anything. _Not sure whether I should be relieved or insulted_, she thought to herself silently, trying to hide a chuckle.

Elias strolled forward and into the heart of the ruins, a semi-circular ring of broken stones with a large chest in the center, shattered into pieces under the weight of time and the elements and who knew what else. The young mage reached out her hand to lift the crumbling lid, relief washing through her small frame.

"Well, well. . . what have we here?" A voice, feminine, sarcastic, cold, drifted up out of the air and assaulted Elias' ears. Startled, the young woman visibly jumped, whipping around to survey the source of the sound.

A young woman walked lithely forward, seeming to drift gracefully away from the shadows where she had obviously been watching the small band and forward into the weak sunlight. She was beautiful, Elias thought, but cold, with a sharp nose, jaw line, and high cheekbones, face framed with raven hair held up and back from her face with simple twine. Her clothing described perfectly the sort of being the young woman thought would be worn by someone living off the land, or hiding out, with a skirt and boots made mostly of blackened animal hides, seemingly strapped to her thin frame. Her shirt, while a pleasant plum color, barely covered her nubile form, falling over her breasts and coming to rest lightly over her stomach. Her eyes, almost cat-like, were most startling of all, two amber-yellow globes that studied Elias and her companions with an aloof interest.

As the young woman made her way farther forward, she continued speaking, in the same mildly sarcastic, indifferent voice.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" she asked rhetorically. "A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What say you, hm?" she asked, her full attention on the shorter woman standing directly before her, barely four feet away now. "Scavenger, or intruder?"

"I am neither," Elias asked, unsure exactly how to respond to this person. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

"'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse," she corrected, soundly mildly amused. ". I have watched _your_ progress for some time," she said suddenly, once again indicating she was speaking about Elias. "Where do they go, I wondered. Why are they here?" As she spoke she paced, wending her way from the others until she was standing almost on the far side of the ruins, as if to look outward at the rest of the forest. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her," Alistair interrupted before the young mage could speak. "She looks Chasined, which means that others may be nearby."

The young intruder made a sound of entertained disgust. "Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair frowned. "Yes. Swooping is . . . bad."

"She's a witch of the Wilds, she is," Daveth said suddenly, not bothering to lower his voice so that he wouldn't be overheard. "She'll turn us into toads."

"Witch of the Wilds?" the black-haired beauty repeated, highly amused. "Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You, there," she said to Elias, once again ignoring the men in favor of speaking to her only. "Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

"You can call me Elias," the mage answered hesitantly.

"And _you_ may call _me_ Morrigan, if you wish," the other woman offered with a polite nod. "Shall I guess your purpose?" she continued. "You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

"Here no longer?" Alistair interjected, clearly suspicious. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of sneaky . . . witch thief!" he said, accusatory.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan responded dryly. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems," Alistair answered quickly. His face took on a harder edge as he continued. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.

"I will not," Morrigan said, irritated, "for t'was not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish. I am not threatened."

"Then who removed them?" Elias asked Morrigan quickly, cutting her young templar friend's angry reply short.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

For a split second, Elias was positive that she had misheard the other woman's response. "Your mother?"

"Yes, my _mother_," Morrigan emphasized, exasperated. "Did you assume I spawned from a log?"

"A thieving, weird, talking log, perhaps," Alistair muttered under his breath. Elias bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Not _all_ in the Wilds are monsters," the witch informed them with a deep sigh, obviously feeling very put-upon. "Flowers grow as well as toads. If you wish," she said, as if voicing a sudden thought, "I can take you to my mother. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you'd like."

"We _should_ get those treaties," Alistair mused out loud, obviously uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. "But I dislike this . . . _Morrigan's_ sudden appearance. It's too convenient."

Elias thought for a few seconds and weighed the consequences and possible outcomes in her mind. On the one hand, if they stayed or even went back, they would have to do so empty-handed, which she was sure was unwise, as the documents they were supposed to be retrieving sounded fairly important. On the other, if they followed this woman deeper into the woods, she might lead them further into the wilderness only to attack them, or worse, leave them, hours away from safety in the middle of a darkspawn-ridden forest.

The young mage sighed and found her own unremarkable grey-blue eyes staring into Morrigan's amber, cat-like ones. "I say we go with her," she told her party, though it was to Morrigan she spoke.

Daveth was not pleased. "She'll put us all in the pot, she will!" he warned Elias, disconcerted. "Just you watch."

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'll be a nice change," Jory stated sarcastically.

Morrigan nodded once more to Elias before turning around and beginning to walk. "Follow me then, if it pleases you," the young woman heard over her shoulder as their newfound guide wandered off into the receding daylight.

Next time: Morrigan and Flemeth, prelude to the Battle of Ostagar, and the death of a king. Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I believe I have finally finished re-formatting and editing all my previous chapters. Thank Gods.

Disclaimer: If you sue me, all you will receive is my barely-functioning van that overheats ever ¼ mile. You're welcome to it.

Chapter 13

The trek through the woods to Morrigan's home was blissfully silent and short. As they dragged their tired feet through the ever growing twilight, Elias began to eye the sun more and more apprehensively, watching it slip lower and lower on its daily downward plunge. Never before had she so fervently wished for the light. Apprehension gnawed at her stomach; if this woman was really leading them about by the nose, as Alistair believed, then they would never have time to exit the Wilds before sundown, Grey Warden treaties or no. The young mage turned her mind from that particular reality and refused to think on it.

True to her word, Morrigan led her four companions through the dim underbrush, and it was less than an hour before Elias could feel a stirring in the air around them, imperceptible at first, but growing stronger with each step they took, almost a prickling down her arms and on the back of her neck. She tried to ignore it.

After ten minutes of walking, however, it became more apparent that the prickling was not going to go away. Elias shot a sideways glance at Alistair, hoping to catch his eye; her ex-templar friend was openly staring, blue eyes locked for just a fraction of a second on her grey-blue ones, before quickly looking away, staring at the ground. Elias' heart stopped. What was he looking at? _He's probably wondering why in Andraste's name he ever decided to follow me. I could have told him it was a bad idea. _The mage inclined her head, trying desperately without speaking to motion that she needed to talk with him, but eventually gave up. He was ignoring her, and one quick look ahead of them at their beautiful but apostate guide gave Elias an idea as to why.

_He dislikes her_, Elias thought to herself, a frown creeping onto her paling features. _A lot. _She supposed this made some sense, whether she agreed with it or no; Morrigan, clad in her leathers, feathers, and beads, was obviously apostate, living deep in the Wilds away from the Chantry's supervision. To someone like Alistair, she represented everything that he had been taught to fear; Elias also had a sneaking suspicion that the other woman's sharp tongue might have contributed to his opinion of her somewhat, but was not about to suggest it aloud.

Frustrated, she turned her attention away from Alistair and toward their guide. Elias knew it would be extremely foolish to trust the beautiful young woman, but saw no reason to dislike her simply for being lucky enough to escape the Chantry's clutches. How many times in her twenty years had she wished that the templars had never found her? That she had been left alone with her mother in the small village outside of Highever that she could barely remember? _Too many times to count_ Elias reminded herself with a sigh, refusing to think of that, either.

They had been traveling almost an hour, and Elias was just about to comment that if they left now they might make it back before total blackness hit when a considerable difference all but lit through the forest; power seemed to be emanating toward them in waves, so strongly that Elias actually gasped out loud. No one noticed; they were distracted by the path that had appeared beneath their feet as if from nothing. Daveth leaned in to mutter something conspiratorially to Jory that she didn't hear, and she caught Alistair's eye again; this time he did not look away. Feeling the first tendrils of real fear assault her, the young woman took a deep breath and made her face completely impassive, a trick she had learned to fool templars when she was guilty of troublemaking but wished to escape the consequences.

Ahead of her small party she could see a dwelling, tiny and exposed in the clearing it occupied, puffs of smoke billowing out its make-shift chimney and spiraling away into the darkening sky. It was barely more than a shack, but Elias was not fooled; there was more power in this one spot than she had ever felt in all her years at the Circle of Magi. Whoever resided here had magic at their disposal that was older than anything she had ever learned, perhaps older than the very hills, and Elias found herself both awed and terrified. More than anything, the young woman felt that those who made this shanty their home were not to be trifled with.

That did not necessarily mean, however, that Morrigan and her mother meant them ill. _You will be polite, _Elias told herself as her feet brought her closer and closer to the hut. _You will be cordial, you will be the picture of manners, and you will smile. And if that doesn't work, set them on fire. _

As they drew close enough to inspect Morrigan's home, the door promptly opened and an old woman hobbled out of the domicile, clad in various leathers and furs, grey hair scraggly and unwashed, spotted hands gripping feebly at her uncured cloak. Her body appeared ancient, but something about the way she held herself made Elias uneasy. She had never seen anyone look more thoroughly like a witch and, despite logic telling Elias that she was probably being paranoid, she still couldn't shake the feeling that this hunched old crone had been watching their progress throughout the woods, waiting for them as they drew nearer and nearer, intelligent eyes narrowed as she summed them up.

And as they approached, Morrigan leading, the old hag's eyes were indeed narrowed, her gaze locked on Elias and refusing to look away. The young woman could not figure out what in Andraste's name this witch could find so fascinating about her; indeed, despite the fading tribal tattoo on her face, she was certainly less exotic than Morrigan, with her suggestive clothing and amber, hawk-like eyes. Before she could be too unnerved by the undeserved attention, however, the distance was closed and Morrigan began to speak to her mother.

"Greetings, Mother," she began without hesitation. "I bring before you three Grey Wardens who—"

"I see them, girl," the old woman interrupted, eyes still locked on Elias' face. She seemed to ponder to herself for several seconds before continuing. "Hm. Much as I expected."

Alistair made a sound of disgust. "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

_Don't make her angry_, Elias thought at him with all her might, but remained silent.

"You are required to do nothing," the crone replied flatly. "Least of all believe. Close one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide. Either way, one's a fool."

"She's a witch, I tell you!" Daveth burst out, loudly enough that he could easily have been heard back in Ostagar. "We shouldn't be talking to her!"

"Quiet, Daveth!" Jory piped up, sounding worried. Elias could have kissed him. "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"There's a smart lad," the old woman purred, amused. "Largely irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not _I_ who decide. Believe what you will." She turned her intelligent, piercing eyes back to Elias, and the young mage tried not to squirm. "And what of you? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

_I believe you're powerful and possibly dangerous_ Elias thought to herself, but would rather have gone back to the Circle tower than admitted it. She squared her shoulders and replied, "I'm not a fool, if that's what you're asking."

"If you need to protest so quickly, perhaps I need not ask," the woman quipped, amused. "So much about you is uncertain. And yet _I_ believe. Do I?" she asked herself suddenly, as if surprised by her own words. "Why, _yes_. It seems I do."

Alistair made another sound, dismissive this time, and Elias almost kicked him. "So, this is a dreaded witch of the wilds?"

"Witch of the wilds, eh?" the old crone repeated, all but cackling now. "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it." She closed her eyes and swayed, as if in time to some ethereal music the rest of them could not hear. "Oh, how she dances under the moon . . ." And the witch cackled wildly.

Morrigan made a face. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother."

"True," the elderly woman said, all business again. "They came for their treaties, yes?" Elias nodded her head encouragingly, but as Alistair opened his mouth to argue, the witch interrupted him. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You . . .!" Alistair began immediately, but stopped when the old woman's words registered in his mind. "Oh. You protected them?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"And why not?" she asked challengingly. She pulled a set of scrolls out from her patched furs and handed them gently to Elias. "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them that this threat is greater than they realize."

The young woman took them gingerly from the witch and glanced them over, but did not read them, placing them carefully into her pack before turning back to the older woman."Thank you for returning them," she said honestly.

"Such manners!" the hag said again, clearly deeply amused. "Always in the last place you look. Like stockings. But don't mind me," she said suddenly, cackling anew. "You have what you came for."

At this Morrigan turned her back and made as if you go inside. "Time for you to go, then."

"Do not be ridiculous, girl," her mother said, giving her daughter a commanding look. "These are your guests."

Morrigan whipped around, clearly confused. She blinked several times, and her face took on the same blank look that Elias had worn when approaching the witch's hut. Her amber eyes narrowed slightly for a second in a look of extreme annoyance, but when she spoke her tone was measured and even. "Oh. Very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

Walking more quickly than was necessary, she strolled off into the gathering twilight. During their final trek the sun had begun to sink behind the western horizon, blanketing the already misty woods in a sinister cloak of darkness that made visibility nearly impossible. As Morrigan stormed off through the undergrowth Elias' companions joined her, jogging to keep up, grateful to finally be leaving the forest, but Elias hesitated. The weathered old woman stood and stared at her, inclined her head slightly, and then began to shuffle back inside her ramshackle house. As she closed the creaking wooden door the young mage was sure that she caught the blue glinting of the woman's eyes through the crack, watching her as she slowly turned her aching body around and proceeded to leave. And when Elias moved to catch up with her fellow recruits, she could have sworn she heard the sound of low, maniacal laughter coming from behind her, trailing off into the night.

She blocked it out as she ran, pell-mell, in the direction she thought her companions had gone. Her skin was still singing and tingling from the exposure to so many primal magics at once, her stomach tied up in knots as she contemplated the strange, powerful woman who had appeared as if from nothing with exactly what they needed at just the right time, but all her mind could contemplate was returning to Ostagar, triumphant, and what was to come after.

Paying no attention to herself in the gloom, Elias didn't realize that someone had turned back to look for her until she ran straight into him. She felt her shoulder connect with something solid, her body losing its footing and slamming full-force into someone larger than she. She heard a sharp intake of breath as the person she had struck was knocked backward, regained his footing quickly, and all but caught her as she fell, supporting her thin frame in his strong, muscular arms.

"Oof!" she heard her companion say as he set her back on her feet effortlessly. "Are you alright?"

In the darkness, it was hard to make out his features, but the voice, warm and friendly, was no doubt Alistair's. She blushed, thankful he couldn't see, and brushed off her already filthy robes.

"Fine," she lied, clearing her throat in what she hoped was an off-hand manner. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to slam into you."

"Well, you don't weigh very much," he joked, hurrying forward again once he was sure that she was accompanying him. "So it wasn't so bad. Besides, you're probably the cleanest thing to hit my armor all day."

Elias laughed. "I doubt that. I don't think I've ever been so filthy in my life. I'd say that I was looking forward to returning to camp and having a hot bath, but I don't think that's very likely."

"Try impossible," Alistair said, moving aside foliage as they continued at a jog; up ahead she could hear Daveth and Jory talking, and knew that they were close. Realizing they had finally caught up to the others, Alistair slowed his pace to a fast walk. "Although there might be a nice barrel of beer you can dunk yourself in, if the mood strikes you."

"Thank you, no." Elias said, wrinkling her nose. "I'll just find a stream somewhere and scrub until my skin comes off."

Alistair chuckled. "You won't have the chance tonight, at any rate."

Remembering, Elias nodded. "The Joining, right?"

Her new acquaintance scratched the back of his blond head absently. "Look, you'll be fine," he said suddenly in a rush, as if needing to say the words as quickly as possible in order to get them out.

Elias stopped walking and turned to him, honesty lining her face. _No games, no manipulations, no cajoling. _ "Are you sure?" she inquired quietly, blue-grey orbs staring unflinchingly at Alistair.

He held her gaze, and she couldn't help but notice again how handsome he was. Jaw working, teeth clenched, she could hear his honest answer even if he wouldn't say it aloud.

"And here you are." Morrigan's voice came through the darkness, startling Elias and Alistair out of their conversation. "Your ruined fortress. Mind you don't break your necks on the stones." The young witch indicated ahead of her with a wave of her hand, and Elias could see the smattering of campfires that was no doubt the King's army, recently lit to combat the increasing cold and the onset of night. She had been so involved in her conversation that she had paid little mind to where they were heading. Daveth and Jory, two paces behind Morrigan, had turned back to see what was taking them so long. Seeing them together, Daveth raised an eyebrow at Elias and sniggered. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"Thank you, Morrigan," the young mage said to their raven-haired guide, smiling. "You saved us many hours of fruitless searching."

Morrigan scoffed. "Do not thank me; I did only as I was bidden."

Elias shrugged. "Fair enough. But you have my thanks, nevertheless.

The witch blinked quickly once or twice, a sign Elias was beginning to suspect was a cover for confusion, inclined her head, and marched nonchalantly back into the trees, quiet as a wraith. After only a few feet, Elias had trouble spotting her, and within a minute she was swallowed entirely, gone back off into her Wilds without a backward glance.

Once the young apostate was gone, Elias squinted ahead down the path. _What in the Maker's name is this trail doing here?_ she asked herself, a uncomfortably tight feeling in her stomach. _It wasn't here before . . . _

For that matter, what exactly had just happened? It had taken them the better part of four hours to slowly wend their way through the Wilds to the abandoned cache, and another hour besides to reach Morrigan's hut. How, then, did they find themselves safely back at the King's Camp with barely half an hour of walking? _This is ancient magic, and dangerous_, some part of Elias' mind reminded her. _Some things it may be better not to know_.

The young woman let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. If her male companions had noticed their quicker-than-expected return, none of them mentioned it.

"Let's get back and tell Duncan we were successful," she said, once again stepping to the forefront of the group and resuming the lead. "I for one would like some food and a couple hours rest before our Joining."

"Good thing that Morrigan woman found us," Daveth said, walking next to Jory, but addressing Elias. "We'd still be in there now, getting cozy with the darkspawn."

"Yes, she did seem to arrive exactly when we needed her," Jory pointed out dryly.

Elias smirked. "I agree; her arrival is somewhat suspicious. However, we still have what we came for. Morrigan and her mother helped us for their own reasons, but still, they helped us. No reason to dwell on riddles that will never be answered."

Daveth grinned. "Where's the fun in that? No one ever died for a little harmless curiosity."

"We should tell Duncan about them," Alistair said suddenly, tone serious. "They had Grey Warden property; I don't believe for a second that they were obtained honestly. Those wards should have held. Besides," he said offhandedly, as if it were a foregone conclusion, "they're apostates, living outside Chantry law. I don't trust them."

Elias succeeded, barely, in keeping her sharp retort to herself. Taking several calming breaths, she said instead, "I think we should leave them alone."

Alistair stared at her in shock for several seconds, as if only just realizing that she was present. "Not . . . that that's the only reason that they're not trustworthy!" he amended quickly, taking note of the scowl Elias had plastered to her face.

"Really?" the mage replied coldly, the corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval. "Because that's what it sounded like to me. They help us find something that's been lost for years, and your sense of gratitude has us running to report them to the Chantry?"

"Someone is going to get lit on fire," she heard Daveth say behind her under his breath, his voice nevertheless loud enough to be heard clearly by everyone.

"I said we should tell Duncan, not the Chantry," Alistair assured her hurriedly, ignoring Daveth, both hands risen as if to fend off an attack. "I just think it would be irresponsible not to mention where we found them. Come on, you can't honestly tell me you trust them?"

"No," Elias said with finality, "but I won't throw them to the wolves, either."

The King's encampment loomed closer and closer, the sheer number of individual campfires casting a soft amber glow that stretched out for several yards, lighting the otherwise pitch-colored landscape. Elias sighed. She wasn't being entirely fair, and she knew it. Alistair didn't mean any harm, not really. And he was right to mention the witches to Duncan; he had a right to know what had happened to the treaties since they had been locked in that chest so long ago. The exhaustion was getting to her; the young woman felt guilty and resolved to apologize when she had a moment.

Daveth increased his pace and caught her, treating her to his handsome, roguish grin for at least the fifth time that night. He leaned in close, and Elias dimly registered that his body was far too near, even to hold a private conversation. She felt blood rush to her face as he leaned in even more to whisper in her ear.

"Would you really have lit him on fire?" he asked, brown eyes locked on hers.

"No," she admitted with a laugh, much more aware of his body than his words. "The last time I lit someone on fire accidently I was seven."

"Pity," Daveth said, walking forward as the guard hailed them, strolling boldly past the front gates and back into the safety of the camp. "I would have been much warmer if you had."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I can't believe I actually finished chapter fourteen! And that it was shorter than the 18+ pages I've been averaging! Yay!

Please read/review!

Chapter 14

The unfamiliar bustle of many men and animals rose up from the cooling night as Elias found herself once again within the relative safety of Ostagar. Her feet halted their forward march momentarily as she breathed in the smell of mud and wood, beast and leather, felt the heat of the many campfires upon her face and back as she walked, admired the men who occasionally stopped to get a better look at the pretty young woman who ambled past. Unaccustomed to so many people, Elias once again couldn't help but feel exhilarated. Her first assignment was all but complete, she was safely back at camp, and, Maker willing, there was time before she had to throw herself head-long at the darkspawn again.

"Let's get back to Duncan," Alistair said, as if reading the young woman's thoughts. "If we wait too long you won't be able to swing a dead cat without hitting darkspawn."

Daveth laughed, but Jory began to look slightly ill. Elias couldn't blame him; she didn't relish the thought of meeting such a terrifying foe again so soon, especially not the army they were expecting to arrive any day now.

Her three male companions began to make the short walk across camp to where Duncan's tent was pitched, but Elias hesitated, remembering something.

"You lot go ahead without me," she said casually, motioning over her shoulder at the kennels. "I'll catch up in a few seconds."

Alistair nodded in understanding, flashed Elias a quick smile, and left, Daveth and Jory bringing up the rear. She noticed that her ex-templar acquaintance moved much more slowly than she. Did he not remember where Duncan's tent was? No, that wasn't it; he was definitely headed in the correct direction. Intrigued, Elias mentally ferreted that piece of information away for use at a later date and turned her tired but upbeat steps toward the unmistakable sounds of howling and snarling coming from her immediate left.

As she approached, the form of the harried kennel master slowly materialized; he looked tired, and much busier than when she had last seen him, rushing to and fro, barking orders, stopping momentarily to bend down and see to one of his charges before standing up and bounding away again. Elias was about to call out to the man to announce her arrival when her hurried over to her as if she'd been standing, rooted to the spot, waiting for him all day.

"I hope the next words out of your mouth are 'I have the herb you asked for'," the older man said crossly. "I managed to stabilize the mabari, but he's not improving, and without that cure he hasn't got a chance in—"

"Is this the flower you asked me about?" Elias asked quickly before he could finish his sentence, hastily withdrawing the blood-red blossom from her pack and holding it out.

"Let me see," he replied by way of a thank you. However, the flower had barely touched his outstretched hand when his face lit up, bad mood seemingly erased. "Yes, that's it exactly!" He took the small bouquet Elias handed to him and all but ran back inside the kennels, only returning long enough to raise his hands in apology and tell the apprehensive young woman that he would return once he had made her miracle-cure into an ointment.

The brunette turned away from the kennels, staring out absently at the hustle and bustle of the soldiers, nobles, mages and servants that seemed to be constantly rushing to and fro in a frenzy of activity. Truth be told, she almost wished that she had waited to deliver the herbs to the kennel master; she was sure that Alistair and her fellow recruits had reached Duncan's tent by now, and were no doubt waiting impatiently for her to return. With a start, Elias remembered that she still had the treaties, so desperately sought after and lovingly concealed within her pack. Duncan wouldn't even know that they had been successful. The mage kicked herself.

Leaning over the chest-high wooden fence that separated the kennels from the rest of camp, Elias was about to raise her voice and announce she would be back later when the kennel master reappeared, wiping his hands on his filthy leathers and smiling from ear to ear.

"He looks better already," he said quickly, before the young woman could even get the question out. "I'm sure he'd thank you himself, if he could."

Elias stood on her tippy-toes, trying to see past through the low walls that blocked her view of the sick dog she had accidently befriended, but gave up after several seconds; it was much too dark to make anything out. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the dog's keeper.

"What will happen to him now?" she asked apprehensively, trying not to bite her lip and betray her nerves.

The kennel master gazed on her warmly, with obvious approval. "Let's give him a couple days to recover. In fact, why don't you come back after the battle?" he asked Elias, smiling. "Maybe we can see about imprinting him on you."

The young woman wasn't entirely sure what _imprinting_ was, but had an educated guess. Elias tried not to grin like an idiot; she had always wanted a pet, but besides Mr. Wiggums, the tower's mouser, she had never had anything close, and definitely not something as smart and proud as a mabari war dog. She coughed to hide her enthusiasm for the idea before speaking again.

"Do you think that's possible?" she asked innocently.

"Maybe," he replied with a shrug. "It's likely he understands that you're responsible for curing him. Mabari are at least as smart as your average tax collector." He smirked at his own joke and Elias giggled.

"Just promise me you'll come back after the battle and take another look," the kennel master entreated, opening the gate and stepping back inside, in theory to resume his duties.

"I will," Elias promised, smiling. The older man crossed his arms to his chest and bowed, a sign of respect the young mage knew was common on the outside world, but which she had only seen once or twice before. Feeling awkward, she returned the bow, hoping this wasn't some social protocol to it that she had missed the nuance of; did only men bow in that manner, was it a way of saying thank you, or just farewell? Was it exchanged among equals, among peasants, only in the army? She sighed. Time and experience were the only things that would erase the years spent in the tower, shut off from the rest of society. The young woman just hoped that she didn't offend too many people before she learned everything.

Task finished, Elias turned her steps hastily back toward Duncan's tent, perfectly aware that four men (including her commander) were awaiting her return before proceeding, and fervently hoping that she would not receive a lecture. She couldn't exactly picture Duncan as the lecturing type, but the young woman knew that beneath the Warden's cordial, soft-spoken demeanor there was a will of fine tempered steel, and a ferocity she had yet to glimpse. _If I'm lucky_, Elias thought as she hurried along, _that part of himself is saved for the darkspawn._

Barely a minute later, the young brunette arrived, breathless, at Duncan's tent. She was relieved to see that only Alistair was present; Jory and Daveth and apparently wandered of elsewhere, and Duncan was seeing to other business on the other side of camp; he had returned shortly to greet Alistair upon his return, but upon seeing Elias absent had excused himself until she finished her business. If Duncan was angry with her for keeping him waiting, Alistair didn't mention it. Elias heaved a sigh of relief. _Best to assume I'm in no trouble, then. _

Before Elias could even open her mouth to inquire as to what she should be doing, Duncan returned, looking harried and extremely tired.

"So, you've returned from the Wilds?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring the three men and turning his full attention on the young woman. "Have you been successful?"

Elias nodded her head, extracted the vials of darkspawn blood she had collected, and handed them gingerly to the older man. Duncan examined them briefly before pocketing them, smiling grimly in approval.

"And the treaties?" he asked, eyes still locked on Elias.

For a half a second, the young mage stood staring at Duncan, dumbfounded. _The treaties? The Treaties! Of course_.

She felt herself stiffen as she withdrew the ancient scrolls from her pack, mind whipping instantly to Morrigan and her mother, apostates hiding in the woods from the Chantry's arm. Should she mention it? Elias was unsure. Tentatively, she chanced a glance in Alistair's direction. Her ex-templar friend was staring at her with a torn look on his handsome, boyish face, clearly unsure of what to do. She shook her head from side to side ever so slightly, silently begging him to leave it alone. After a few seconds Elias saw his jaw clench; he blinked once in agreement and closed his mouth, blue eyes still boring into her.

_Thank you,_ Elias told him silently.

"Good," Duncan announced, rolling up his papers and stuffing them out of sight. "I've had the circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately."

The mage's stomach lurched painfully at these words, but her face remained impassive.

"Now will you tell us what this ritual is about?" Elias asked casually, tearing her eyes off of Alistair with difficulty and smiling at her commander. _Keep calm . . . _

"I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are," Duncan informed her, tone so serious and face so somber than Elias felt the smile vanish from her face almost instantly. "Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later."

Elias felt her head swimming. Unbidden and un-looked for, the same feeling of terrible excitement that she had experienced during her Harrowing returned, the butterflies in her stomach growing more and more manic, adrenaline pumping through her veins as the full weight of her commander's words sank in. She knew she should be afraid, knew she should be terrified; there was a good chance that she was going to die. But the fervor would not subside. The mage found herself clasping her hands behind her back to keep herself from visibly shaking in anticipation, a grin so close to the surface that keeping her face straight was an almost painful task.

"I've come this far," Elias said, unafraid. "I'd like to see this through." Anything to stop this terrible anticipation, this insane wildness that seemed to seize her right when she should be most cautious.

"I agree," Jory chimed in, determined. "Let's have it done."

"Then let us begin." Duncan turned to face Alistair, who was looking more and more apprehensive as the seconds ticked by. "Alistair, take them to the old temple."

The warrior bowed, face shadowed by anxiety, and walked, pace quick, in the direction of the alcove where Elias had first met him, leaving behind Duncan, who went off immediately in a different direction and disappeared into the depths of the camp. The ex-templar didn't stop and the warden recruits spoke to no one; whereas before the young woman found herself blushing from the approving glances she received from random passerby, now it seemed that she and her three companions were almost invisible. Though they encountered the regular hustle and bustle that she had come to associate with the army, none spoke to them or even glanced in their direction; it was as if they all knew, instinctively, what fate awaited Elias and her allies. The mage's stomach flipped itself over again, and she felt herself taking great gulps of air to calm the passion raging within her.

Within five minutes they had arrived, Elias, for once, several paces behind the others. A semi-circular outcropping of crumbling stone edifice stood bathed in torchlight, and she couldn't help but notice that this area was easily the most secluded part of camp she had yet been to. The young woman highly doubted that this was an accident; it seemed that the Grey Warden reputation for secrecy was an accurate one.

Even highly excited and walking quickly, the young mage was still far shorter than her companions, and by the time she caught up, out of breath from the short sprint, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of Daveth and Jory, once again arguing. Elias groaned inwardly. It seemed that the two of them were almost made to aggravate each other; she hoped that maybe they'd cease their endless bickering once the Joining was over, but somehow doubted it. The stress of potentially dying during the Joining would just be replaced by the stress of potentially dying in battle.

"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it," Jory was saying, pacing to and fro in his agitation.

"Are you blubbering _again_?" Daveth asked incredulously, ignoring Elias as she made a face at him.

"But why all these damned tests?" Jory demanded haughtily. "Have I not earned my place?"

"Maybe it's tradition. _Maybe_," Daveth suggested sarcastically, "they're just trying to annoy you."

_I swear, I'm the bravest one here, and I'm a woman!_

"Calm down," she said instead, letting just a hint of the displeasure she was feeling seep into her words. "There's nothing we can do about it now."

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me . . ." Jory trailed off worriedly. "It just doesn't seem fair."

"Would you have come if they'd warned you?" Daveth asked challengingly. "Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?"

Dislike it as she may, Elias had to admit that Daveth had a point. The Grey Wardens were well-known throughout most of Thedas as being willing to do whatever it took to stop the darkspawn; whether their decisions were moral ones or not was not usually discussed.

"Including _sacrificing_ us?" Jory's voice, somewhat calm up until now, had suddenly become tinged with panic, and the young mage didn't know whether to shake him or comfort him. He had a wife whom he obviously adored, and a baby on the way; who could blame him for his fear? Would she, Elias, be willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good of a society that had locked her away and told her she was cursed almost since she first drew breath?

_Yes, _she told herself, all her excitement hardening into iron. _Even so_.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight," Daveth retorted.

While she may agree in principle with his answer, Elias saw no reason to say so. "But we don't know that, Daveth."

"Don't we?" the rogue asked with a raised eyebrow. "The Grey Wardens have saved the world from darkspawn before. I'd say they know better than anyone what it takes." He turned to face Jory once again. "You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?"

Jory hesitated, looking horrified. "I . . ."

Daveth nodded, as if understanding. "Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll all die," he pointed out soberly. "But if nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," the knight explained lamely.

Footsteps startled Elias out of her complacency, and she whipped around to see Duncan, striding forward, holding aloft a silver goblet of some size. His armor clanked dully as he crossed the small space in which the companions were standing, deposited his cup onto a rough wooden table that Elias had not noticed, and turned to face them. She felt the knot of excitement in her stomach tighten uncomfortably.

"At last, we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were formed during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihililation." His voice was even and soft, his dark brooding eyes sizing up each of them individually. Elias imagined that his gaze rested on her longest of all, but after several seconds pondering was sure she was being paranoid.

Duncan paused; the tension is the air was unbearable. "So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood . . . and mastered their taint."

Elias tried, but was unsuccessful at keeping herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust. The thought of consuming the blood of something so putrid and vile. . .

Apparently Jory felt the same way. He visibly paled several shades, and the brunette could actually see the sweat on his brow from where she was standing, even in the dim torchlight.

"We're going to drink the blood of those . . . those creatures?"

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you," Duncan intoned, voice still silky smooth and tranquil. "_This_ is the source of our power . . . and our victory."

Alistair stepped forward suddenly, and Elias jumped; she had almost entirely forgotten that the junior warden was present.

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it," he explianed quickly, "and use it to slay the archdemon."

She caught Alistair's eye, saw his jaw clench again. _Now or never._

"Let's get on with it, then," Elias said grimly.

"We spoke only a few words prior to the Joining," their Commander informed them, bringing over the silver goblet from its resting place and holding it between both hands. "But these have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

"Join us, brothers and sister. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that someday, we will join you."

As he finished, Elias felt a lump form in the back of her throat, and she pinched her thigh hard to keep herself from weeping. The words had touched some hidden part of her, something that had always been there, sleeping, waiting to be discovered, and the young mage found herself feeling something she hadn't felt since the templars had torn her out of her mother's arms.

_Like I belong._

"Daveth, step forward."

Complying, the dashing thief walked forward and stood solemnly before Duncan, who bowed his head for half a moment before passing the silver chalice. Daveth hesitated, seemed to steel himself, and drank.

At first nothing happened. Everyone waited, palms perspiring, hearts beating painfully fast. _Is he finished?_ Elias asked herself.

As if in answer, Daveth let out a blood-curdling scream. He staggered, first to the right, and then to the left, and the petite woman would have thrown herself at him and caught him had Alistair not grabbed her arm at the last second.

"Maker's breath!" Jory gasped.

Daveth screamed again, and Elias found herself unable to stand the sound of it, wanting desperately to cover her ears, to drown out it's pitch by any means necessary. Terrified, but too fascinated to turn away, she watched as the rogue's eyes turned white as if he was struck blind, watched as his body twisted painfully with some unknown ailment, and slumped forward onto the ground, spent. There was no question about it; Daveth was dead.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan apologied, and Elias knew that he meant it. However, he did not hesitate in turning toward Jory and holding out the cup.

"Step forward, Jory."

But Elias knew even before her companion spoke that he wouldn't; he had been hesitant ever since they had entered the Wilds, and seeing Daveth's body, crumpled and still warm on the stones was the final straw for Ser Jory.

"But . . . I have a wife!" Jory yelled, backing up hastily. "A child! Had I known . . ."

Duncan's eyes narrowed, and his hand went ever so slowly to the hilt of his blade. "There's no turning back," he warned, but Jory was nearly beside himself.

"No! You ask too much!" he thundered at the older man, drawing his enormous broadsword from its sheath. "There is no glory in this!"

Her commander moved like lightning, much faster than she was expecting, deftly drawing his blade and charging at the younger knight. Jory was young and strong, in the prime of his life, but Elias knew the outcome before it had begun; Duncan, senior Grey Warden, Commander of the Grey in all Ferelden, plunged his sword straight through Jory's chest, the steel sinking in so swiftly that the younger man gasped.

Blood, hot and thick, poured down in rivulets onto the stone, seeped from the gaping wound of the proud knight as he grasped his chest feebly and sunk down to lay beside Daveth, sightless blue eyes staring at the inky sky.

"I am sorry," Duncan repeated, just as he had done with Daveth, but Elias was too horrified to hear him. _You killed that man in cold blood!_ her mind thundered, so shocked she couldn't even feel sorry for Jory as he lay, life gone, bloodied carcass slumped over the weathered stones. "The Joining is not yet complete . . . "

And it was her turn. Her Commander stood before her, silver cup raised for her to grasp, and Elias knew better than to argue. Her face was still contorted with disgust and fury, but Duncan seemed not to notice. He was eyeing her kindly again, the same way he had when he had talked to her about Jowan, and Elias felt like hitting him.

"You are called upon to submit yourself for the greater good," he told her softly, and Elias felt the knot return to her throat as she tipped back her head and drank.

It was easily the foulest thing she had ever had in her mouth. Rotten and sickly like spoiled meat, it retained the coppery, metalic taste of human blood, but burned like fire all the way down to her belly. She was momentarily reminded of when she and Jowan stole a bottle of Senior Enchantress Wynne's best Antivan brandy until Elias nearly wretched, her insides feeling as if they were slowly being boiled within her small body.

"From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden," she heard Duncan say from very far away as she felt her legs collapsing beneath her, the skin of her knees breaking as she slammed into the ground.

Elias felt herself slipping. Darkness closed on the edges of her vision, her head pounded, and she tried not to scream as her body convulsed violently. _I'm going to die_, she thought to herself, and it was almost a comfort as oblivion finally claimed her.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Still trying to keep the chapters short-ish. Sorta. Ahem.

Disclaimer: You know what? Dragon Age doesn't belong to me. Don't give me that look! It doesn't. I swear.

Chapter 15

Elias dreamed of her mother.

In the dream she was young and beautiful, as she had been before the wasting illness had sapped the strength from her body; she smiled down at Elias, her pin-straight black hair falling into her deep brown eyes, and the young mage felt herself enfolded in warmth. Reaching up to brush her mother's hair aside, Elias' hand grazed her cheek; it was moist to the touch, and warm. _Why is she weeping?_

Thoughtlessly, she felt her arms loosen and her feet carry her away, through the rough wooden door and into the tiny garden, past the snoozing cats basking in the weak sunshine and from there into the fields, the golden fields ripe for harvest, wheat stalks waving in the late summer breeze.

Her pace quickened; before long Elias was running, breathlessly, as fast as her legs could carry her, running and running and never stopping, trees and stalks and rivers flying by at alarming speeds.

In her left hand she felt a pressure, and suddenly Jowan was with her, hand clasped in hers, as they bolted and ran tirelessly through all of the farmlands, all of Highever, all of Ferelden, all the world, laughing as they hadn't since they were children. As if underwater, Elias felt Jowan grasp hold of her other hand and twirl her, 'round and 'round, building up speed. Just when she thought he must surely trip he let her go, launching her full-force into the thick shafts of the grains, her small body landing feather-soft. The young mage squealed in delight, giggling so hard that her incorporeal sides felt likely to split. Gasping, she picked herself up to find Jowan. _And do what?_ Her mind asked her in a rush of blood and laughter. _What do I care? _She answered herself. _Maybe I'll fling him into a tree. Maybe we'll run together and not stop until we've seen every last inch of the Maker's sky. Maybe I'll kiss him._ The last thought was a strange one; Elias had never wanted to kiss Jowan, not for as far back as she could remember, but everything now felt wild and unrestricted and different. Right now, anything felt possible.

As soon as she was on her feet, however, Elias knew that things were wrong.

The dream-like trance state that she had been so thoroughly enjoying just moments before dropped away from her with alacrity. Sobered and cold, the young mage realized that the field she was standing in was burned, the cottages against the background mere husks against an angry slate sky. Jowan was missing, and as she remembered why Elias felt a sob catch in her throat. _Traitor!_ She wanted to scream into the nothingness, but her mouth would not open.

An ear-splitting shriek sounded behind her. She froze, too terrified to move, sure that whatever beast had roared would surely devour her if she slid so much as an inch in any direction. The roar came again, louder this time, closer, and Elias couldn't help but whip around to meet it.

The dragon was before her, larger than anything she had ever seen in her entire life, its wingspan darkening the already poisonous sky, its fanged teeth longer than her arms, and in some places thicker. Elias fell unceremoniously onto her backside and threw her hands up, summoning every spell she had ever learned, including the one to help her find things at the bottom of the lake, but the air remained still, and no magic was summoned to her side. Nothing would help her, she knew in that final terrifying moment, nothing. No magic, no spells, no training, no friends. All that was left in the entire world was Elias and the dragon. And the dragon looked into her, and it _saw._

Daylight forced its way beneath Elias' eyelids, and as if clawing her way up from underground, the young woman opened her eyes.

Two men stood over her, concern etched onto each of their faces. As her eyes adjusted, Elias realized that she was lying on her back, and the glare that she had mistaken for sunlight was in fact only torchlight, feebly warding against the darkness from her left.

"It is over. Welcome," Duncan said to her solemnly.

With the sound of his voice, everything came crashing back. Who she was, _what_ she was, and everything that had just happened to her. _I did it! I . . . wait, I'm not dead?_ Elias' mind questioned, perplexed, but her mouth, thankfully, seemed incapable of keeping up.

"Two more deaths," Alistair said with a wince as Duncan helped her to her feet. The pain in her head was so intense that for a moment Elias thought she might pass out all over again. "In my joining, only one of us died, but it was . . . horrible. I'm glad at least one of you made it through." He managed a weak smile. The mage tried to nod her head in response, but it hurt too much, so she settled for a grimace and hoped he understood.

"How do you feel?" Duncan asked politely.

_Like you and Alistair beat me nearly to death with clubs_ was the honest answer, but Elias chose a less harsh response. "That was worse than my Harrowing," she admitted with a semblance of her lopsided grin. "Much more painful, anyway."

Duncan shrugged. "Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden."

_Ass_, Elias thought silently, but her anger subsided quickly. He was her Commander, after all; she couldn't very well expect him to coddle her when battle might come upon them at any moment.

"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked, and Elias averted her eyes, unwilling to think about the terror of the dragon that saw into and through her. "I had _terrible_ dreams during my Joining." Hesitantly, she nodded.

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do," Duncan explained. "But I think that's more than enough excitement for one evening. That and many other things besides will be explained in the months to come."

Elias let out all the air she'd been holding in her lungs. As much as she wished that Duncan would cease to be mysterious and simply sit her down and explain everything to her tonight, every muscle was exhausted, her mind had finally reached the breaking point, and, for some reason, she was ravenous. _It can wait_, she told the tiny part of her mind that insisted she ask every question as it bloomed in her brain. _It'll keep for tomorrow_.

"Oh! Before I forget," Alistair began, and Elias felt all the air she had just exhaled go whooshing back into her lungs unbidden. "There _is_ one last part to your Joining."

From his pocket he withdrew a tiny vial made out of glass hanging from a long silver chain. Striding over to the Joining cup, he poured a drop or two of the foul substance into the vial, corked it, and handed it to Elias who stared at it, confused.

"We take the blood from the Joining and put it in a pendant," he explained when he caught sight of the confusion on his companion's face. "Something to remind us of . . . those who didn't make it this far."

Nodding, Elias accepted it silently and slipped it about her neck, tucking it under her robes where it nestled gently between her breasts, the glass and metal a cold tickle against her warm skin. She thought of Jory, oafish but well-meaning, and of Daveth, whose charm and roguish smile and made her blush. Both were dead now, though their bodies were gone when she had awoken, the knight's blood mopped up or swept away until only a smear remained. Suddenly, Elias was very grateful she had not had time to take Daveth to her bed.

"Take some time," Duncan said gently, the kindness back in his voice as if guessing what she was thinking. "I am sure you must be very weary. We rode hard for Ostagar, and you were sent into the Wilds with no time allotted for rest; eat, sleep, wash your clothes, explore the camp at your leisure, but be wary. The battle could come any day, at any time. And there is . . . another matter I must discuss with you."

Perplexed, Elias' face turned to Alistair. The ex-templar looked as curious and surprised as she felt. _So he has not mentioned this to Alistair, yet. Strange . . ._

When Duncan did not ask the young man to leave, Elias shrugged and assumed that whatever it was must be something boring and commonplace. That is, until her Commander opened his mouth.

"Tomorrow evening, if you feel ready, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the King."

"Uhhhh . . .," Elias trailed off stupidly. The King? The _King_? The great sodding _King of Ferelden_? What in the black city could King Cailan possibly want with her?

Apparently, Alistair was wondering the same thing. He frowned for a fraction of a second, and then his blond eyebrows shot up so far that they nearly disappeared into his hair.

Finally, Elias found her voice. "What . . . what sort of meeting?"

"The King is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle," Duncan replied, and Elias felt herself panicking. _Strategy? Andraste's unmentionables, he doesn't expect _me_ to help with that, does he?_ She wondered if she should mention to Duncan that she knew less about strategy than Alistair did about underwater basket-weaving. Sure, she'd read every history book the tower offered, including all the in-depth first-hand accounts of battles that she could find, but _reading_ about strategy and _coming up with new ones herself_ were vastly different things. Elias felt faint all over again.

Seeing the look of terror on her face, the young mage saw the corner of her Commander's mouth quirk as he hastily hid a smile. "To be honest, I am not sure why he has requested your presence, though there is no cause for alarm; King Cailan will have many strategists there to advise him. Our young king is . . ." Duncan paused here a moment and the almost-smile nearly returned to his face. ". . . very taken with the Grey Wardens. He may have just asked for your presence as a courtesy."

"Did he ask anyone else?" Elias squeaked out, still slightly horrified.

Duncan cleared his throat and blinked several times in succession. "No. Not as such. Though he has rarely had much opportunity to meet many of us, nor put names to faces; you, though, have spoken with him, and besides being the only woman currently in the Wardens here in Ferelden, you are also the only mage." This time her Commander did smile, though it was a smirk. "As such, you are somewhat of a fascination around camp. His Majesty is not the first to ask after you."

All of the blood rushed to Elias' ears and face, though she doubted either man could tell in the dim torchlight. _Asked after me . . .?_ Her mind repeated, flabbergasted. When she stopped and thought about it, however, she supposed it made sense. A woman and a mage to boot recruited by the Warden-Commander of all Ferelden. Elias suspected that most of the men at Ostagar had seen their fair share of women, but perhaps only a handful had ever seen a mage, and even less than that a warden. A young, female mage-warden probably ranked somewhere up there with dragons or griffins.

"Tomorrow evening, then," Duncan said suddenly, inclining his head. "Rest, and enjoy the evening. You have earned it." He smiled at her again, and Elias felt herself returning the gesture unknowingly. "Alistair, if I might speak with you before you retire for the evening?"

"Of course," the young man answered quickly, following Duncan as he ambled down the ramp and out of sight. His eyes caught Elias' for a split second. He stopped then, and mumbled a half-embarrassed "congratulations" before wishing her good night.

Startled, Elias realized that it was truly dark now, the sun having finally disappeared behind the western horizon, the chill and light having long ago leaked away. _I must not have noticed, because of the Joining_. Lost, she stared about her, unsure of where to go or what to do. More than anything, she wanted to flop down where she stood and sleep, even though she'd likely freeze with no fire and no bedroll.

Exhausted, she made herself stumbled down the incline that Duncan and Alistair had just vacated, pausing to ask for directions to, well, food.

The guard she questioned looked at her as if she were completely insane. "You want the mess tent," he explained, as if speaking to someone either very young or very slow. "That way. Over there." He pointed helpfully.

Elias sighed. How was she to know what anything was called? Until last week, every meal she had consumed since time out of memory had been prepared for her. She had never been out of the tower before; they were lucky that she even spoke the same language.

As she walked away, the young mage smiled despite herself. _Still, I _am_ out of the tower. My Harrowing is over, my Joining finished. I'm free. Now all I have to worry about are the darkspawn. _

And _why_ was she so sodding hungry?


End file.
